


Confessions

by Sirensea1453



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Drama & Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Workplace Relationship, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:33:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 77
Words: 184,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23943985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sirensea1453/pseuds/Sirensea1453
Summary: Set after No Reason, House confesses to Wilson that he hallucinated Cameron; she will find out eventually, but to what consequence? House/Cameron but it's a slow-burner.
Relationships: Allison Cameron/Greg House
Comments: 41
Kudos: 102





	1. No Reason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've recently finished watching House M.D. for the first time and I loved the House/Cameron pairing. The following instalment of what will hopefully be a lengthy multi-part story takes place after his shooting in No Reason (end of season 2), but before House returns to work (it bugged me that the show never dealt with this properly). It will be heavy on the Hameron but it is a slow one. I wrote this mainly for myself and I personally prefer building up to things and exploring relationships. So if you're looking for a quick oneshot this isn't for you! Please review if you liked it. Comments and criticism of all kinds welcome.
> 
> A quick note on the language: It may not be to everyone's taste. Sorry about that. It does pick up as the story progresses, honest!

“Have you considered the possibility that you’re insane?”, Wilson asked, leaning forwards in his chair but keeping his gaze fixed firmly on his friend.

House, who was lying spread-eagled on the oncologist’s couch, swung Wilson’s baseball bat in lazy arcs with his left hand while his right ruffled his dark, though slightly greying, hair. He didn’t answer immediately, preferring instead to map out from his prone position the slight imperfections in Wilson’s ceiling. The beige paint had fissures running over its surface in random sequence; whenever he attempted to follow a crack to its end his eyes soon started playing tricks, refusing to focus. The ceiling looked as if it was a pane of glass on the point of fracturing. Fracture. House considered the word awhile: _am I fracturing? A scary thought_. “Your ceiling is defective”, he muttered by way of reply.  
  
“Yes, the family who have moved into the apartment above mine are incredibly fat. I believe that their constant movement, though admittedly glacial in pace, has undermined the structural integrity of the whole building”, Wilson offered, getting up from his chair and moving into the kitchen. He returned with a pair of beers, giving one to House, before continuing: “I’m talking seriously fat. Like morbidly obese”.  
  
House smirked but took the proffered drink and a long draught from the bottle. The amber liquid flowed easily, though he much preferred the rich smokiness of a fine scotch whiskey. Wilson partook only rarely. House held it to be a significant flaw in his friend, though he endured this with fairly good grace. No one was perfect, least of all himself.  
  
_Some people are perfect_. The whisper entered his mind unwelcome and unwanted; an intruder. House banished this reflection before it could evolve into a fully formed thought, before his unruly subconscious could summon up the image of someone whom he might consider perfect. Such a being did not exist. Everyone had flaws – the game of life was won by those who hid their flaws long enough to entice other equally flawed individuals into their beds. A reductionist perspective, and one which he knew Wilson did not share. _But what did he know? Three wives later…_  
  
House sat up on the couch, cradling his beer in his hands. “You call me insane, and yet _I’m_ not the one wilfully living under a pod of orca whales. How did they even make it onto dry land, anyway? Is whaling illegal in New Jersey?”, he asked.  
  
“I believe it’s illegal in most places”.  
  
“Unfortunate. How can you stand the tension, waiting for your ceiling to collapse? It’s like the Sword of Damocles. I’m amazed you can sleep at all”, stated House, moving over to stand by the window. He looked out onto the dark street. The streetlights flickered in the rain.  
  
“Well, I must confess that I’ve been finding it hard ever since I befriended a grumpy nephrologist a few years back-”.  
  
“Hey, that’s my best friend’s best friend you’re talking about”, interjected House, still looking out on to the city.  
  
Wilson smiled faintly and regarded the profile of the man before him. Given the late hour, Wilson had kept the light in his apartment dim (though apparently not dim enough to deter House from criticising the paintwork of his living room). Consequently, much of House was in shadow, back turned. Still, features could be discerned. Habitual cane usage resulted in a posture that occasionally slouched, but here he was drawn to his full height. Large hands calloused through long use clasped behind his back; the fingers long and nimble. Shoulders, not obviously muscled, but nevertheless broader than average; hair dark and unruly, thinning slightly on top. Though Wilson could not make out his friend’s face, he knew that his shockingly blue eyes would be darting here and there, making connections invisible to all but himself; a long, almost leonine nose, and a mouth slow to laugh, quick to sneer – at times eager to talk, at others almost mute. An angular chin given to stubble. Though he would never admit this, Wilson knew that women found his friend to be a handsome man. Despite this, House remained alone. Wilson had not yet met a woman who could meet House as an equal, on his own ground. Wilson truly believed House needed to be challenged and provoked, but also loved and accepted for what he was. Everyone is unique. _But some are more unique than others_ , thought Wilson. _**She** knows this_.  
  
“I’m not insane, Wilson, but I am experiencing difficulty”. House sighed and turned to face his best friend. “As you know, I try and avoid this type of conversation whenever possible”, Wilson merely grunted in response, “but it’s interfering with my drinking _and_ my TV watching”. House looked utterly appalled at this last admission but carried on regardless: “as someone who is expert in such things, and again I can’t stress enough how humiliating I find it that I am coming to you for advice, do you have any thoughts on the matter?”. After he had finished, House sat back down on the couch and lay his head back, gazing once more at the ceiling.  
  
Wilson moved to his armchair and folded his arms across his chest. It was getting late and he had an early appointment tomorrow. But he considered it his duty as a friend to give the matter consideration. For one thing, he was unsure quite to what expertise House was referring, since House’s garbled words (“vision…. delusion …. shot…. _her_ ”) upon bursting into his apartment at 11pm on a Wednesday night, revealed that his friend’s predicament had nothing to do with oncology. Furthermore, it was clear from House’s unimpeded movements that the ketamine treatment had not worn off. Finally, and this must be significant, House was rarely this cryptic when it came to discussing cases. Thus, Wilson felt sure that the problem was not medical in nature. He needed more to go on, but long experience knew that to ask outright would be to court disaster. Better to approach the issue in a roundabout way: “what did you mean by my being an ‘expert’ in this?”, Wilson asked, glancing up at a now pacing House.  
  
House halted his patrol long enough to appraise the man sitting before him. He raised his eyebrows and enunciated in a deliberately slow Southern drawl: “my dear sir, you had wives aplenty ‘afore the War; now they are but a memory of a cursed time long gone but never forgotten”. House’s eyes flashed and his mouth curved into a semi smile. His friend would have to do the messy business of interpretation himself.  
  
“Ah. You refer to my failed marriages. Yes, well, why wouldn’t you”, grumbled Wilson as he thought on House’s obscure utterance word by word. _Wives_. House obviously had no wives, and Stacey was long out of the picture. It was not completely beyond the realm of possibility that during the interminable boredom of his weeks off he had eloped with his favourite hooker. But still, Wilson did not consider House the marrying type, impulse or not. No, 'wives' must refer to women, but not all women, just those close enough to him to be judged companions rather than simple disposable pleasures. _Women close to House_ ….  
  
As Wilson worked through the problem, the tall diagnostician ambled over to the bookcase and took hold of the baseball resting on the shelf, its removal revealing a perfect circle amid the thin layer of dust. He tossed the ball from hand to hand, watching the wheels turning in the oncologist’s mind.  
  
_Wives aplenty_. This must refer simply to past girlfriends of House’s, of which there were many. Conferences, bars and lecture rooms had all borne witness to his friend’s peculiar brand of aloof mystique which drew women to his bed but not to his life. Even Stacey, who had stayed for a full five years, had given up in the end. If a relationship is characterised as give and take, then House only took. _But_ , Wilson reflected mirthlessly, _if a relationship is characterised as give and take, then **I** only give. And Cuddy wonders why we are friends_.  
  
“How’s it going over there, pal? Figured it out yet?”. House had started to throw the ball against the ceiling, catching it with his wrong hand and with one eye closed. The ball made a metronomic thud.  
  
Wilson said nothing. He was puzzling now on the _‘afore the War_ section of the riddle. On its face, this referred to battle. Wilson knew that his friend came from a military family, his father a former marine pilot. But that couldn’t be relevant: his parents had come to see House after he was shot, but they were hardly regular features in his life. _Shot_. House had been shot. He had nearly died. _This_ was his war – the Diagnostics department had been invaded by a hostile force, the soldiers his Fellows, himself the casualty, bleeding on the floor, punctured by bullets.  
  
_Women before he was shot, a memory of a cursed time_. This could refer to anything. Trauma over Stacey leaving him for Mark, then offering to return to his side following Mark’s disability and her employment by the hospital? It was possible, though unlikely. After all, it was House himself who had convinced her to remain with her husband. No, this wasn’t it. Wilson thought back. _A cursed time_. There had been a patient, a boy named Gabriel who had been convinced that he was cursed to die. This was around the time of Vogler. _Vogler_. Wilson grimaced inwardly as he remembered the wrecking ball of an administrator, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He saw House as a personal enemy to be destroyed. Wilson and then Cuddy had been ousted from the Board when they refused to acquiesce in the doctor’s removal. Wilson fired, angry at his friend for his stubborn refusal to bow to Big Brother. House’s team had been reduced to infighting: Foreman on the point of quitting, Chase an informant against his boss, Cameron _did_ leave.  
  
House had stopped throwing the ball and fixed his friend with a keen gaze. Wilson’s mind was racing. There was only one woman at that time. _A time long gone but not forgotten_. This could only refer to House’s memory of those events, the feelings which remain in his mind, but which nevertheless have changed following the attempt on his life. His feelings concerning _her_. Wilson’s eyes grew wide as he drew his conclusions, looking up finally at the taller man who did nothing but stare back at him. “It’s Cameron, isn’t it?”, Wilson whispered.  
  
House flashed his best friend a sharp look but did nothing to refute the observation. Instead he made his way back to the couch and looked to the floor, hands locked together, shoulders hunched. It occurred to Wilson as he regarded the man opposite that this revelation of secretly harboured feelings for his younger subordinate should be almost as terrifying as the fact of getting shot – the harsh metal of a gun and bullet, though undoubtedly lethal, was nevertheless entirely straightforward. The physics that propelled the projectile easily understood, reduced to reason with little difficulty. But the turmoil of a man’s disturbed mind, of a mind as ingenious yet as delicate as House’s, did not effortlessly succumb to reason. Riotous thoughts spark emotion untamed – not even House could impose order on his unconscious. In the recesses of the mind, there was No Reason.  
  
“Tell me”, urged Wilson, padding over to sit beside his friend on the couch. For a long time House said nothing. The oncologist remained quiet, willing to wait. The rain pattered against the window.  
  
Finally, House seemed to come to a decision, settling his shining blue eyes on the brown ones of his companion. “Fine”, he said, “but I’ll need another beer”.


	2. Unfamiliar territory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to length, I've split up the second and third chapters. This one is a bit shorter. The next one is a bit longer. Feedback and comments good or bad are welcome.

Wilson set down a fresh beer on the sidetable and sat beside House who still remained motionless, considering how best to begin. The doctor's blue eyes were restless as his brain worked through opening gambits and follow-up statements, discarding phrases as quickly as they materialised.

Wilson waited patiently. At times like this, the oncologist knew that to break silence would be fruitless. House worked best when his brain was free to roam without interruption: problems (and this _was_ a problem) were solved only when his intellect had run down every avenue and possibility, weighing up cause and effect, making connections and severing them when they didn't fit the circumstance. Wilson understood, however, that the root of House's genius lay not only in the relentless acuity of his mind (after all, _every_ doctor was smart), but in his alarming intuition which afforded him an ingenuity beyond the capacity of most. Much of House's knowledge was entirely conventional, but alongside this conventionality was a streak of the special. Wilson had left jealousy behind long ago, but it was that aspect of his friend's intelligence, his brilliant unorthodoxy, which he envied the most. _And yet_ , he thought, _emotions are not an intellectual equation to be balanced_.

Outside a siren pealed. House reached over and took a swig of beer, looking askance at his friend. "I expect that what I am about to say will cause you to analyse me. I ask that you repress this unfortunate desire. You know how hilarious I find your attempts to pick me apart, but it's getting late and I don't want to hurt my healed leg rolling around on the floor laughing at you". Wilson gave a mock salute, though remained silent.

Seemingly satisfied, House began: "for the last few weeks, I've been struggling with _inappropriate_ thoughts regarding Cameron-".

"Have these thoughts been coming to you in bed or in the shower...?", Wilson grinned, "because you know such feelings are an entirely natural part of growing up. Sometimes, when a boy and a girl like each other-".

"Hah, but maybe it's best you leave the humour to me, eh? Snarkiness does not become a man of your negligible stature", House retorted, eyes flashing.

Wilson raised an eyebrow but held his hands up in surrender: "please continue, oh mighty one".

"Anyway, I don't _like_ her", uttered House, looking down at his hands as he spoke. "OK, I like her. But that's not why I'm telling you this. I'm telling you because I want you to help me understand why I like her". House suddenly got up and began pacing the room, his running shoes leaving slight indentations in Wilson's carpet as he went. The oncologist briefly considered requesting that his companion remove them. He thought better of it.

"You mean, you want to do a differential diagnosis on attraction?", asked Wilson, who was beginning to rethink his earlier observation that emotions were not in fact mathematical equations to be solved.

House continued, oblivious to the other's interjection: "I thought that I'd shut down this little fantasy last year. I don't need to be fixed and I don't want to fixed. There's no reason at all for this infatuation. I _told_ her she was just a piece of lobby art with a stunning ass. Apparently, this is enough for women- no, _girls_ -", House corrected himself, "to like you. It's pathetic".

Wilson was perplexed. It was unlike his friend to ramble. Normally the nephrologist's words were concise and logical; but in this instance House was inexact, unguarded. The observation simultaneously intrigued and alarmed Wilson. "OK, but you said yourself that this stuff has already been resolved. Cameron has moved on. Didn't she tell you as much when you refused to indulge her caring instinct over that young cancer patient a while back?", Wilson asked.

House stopped pacing and looked up, half of his face in shadow. "Yes, yes. If I remember correctly, you agreed with me on that one. Her exact words: 'I've jumped on the bandwagon with everyone else. I hate you now'".

"Right", said Wilson. "And how does that make you feel?".

House scoffed. "Oh, please. If I wanted a second-rate psychological assessment I'd go to Cameron. At least she actually knows who Freud is. And she's much prettier than you".

"Truth be told, I'm more of a Jungian myself. Anyway, how do you know she reads Freud?", replied Wilson, who silently acknowledged House's admission that he was attracted to his subordinate for more than her obvious beauty. _So not **just** lobby art then._

__

House walked to the bookcase, toying with the ball he had replaced moments before. "She mentioned it on our date".

__

_Ah_ , thought Wilson, _the mysterious date_. House had remained remarkably tight-lipped about that night last year. It had been the talk of the hospital that the most acerbic and sarcastic doctor in all New Jersey had been enticed into an evening with his youthful subordinate. Some of the nurses had suspected black magic was at play (at whose conjuring Wilson couldn't say), or else that Cameron was merely attempting to win a bet. Certainly, most people were of the opinion that it was a disaster waiting to happen.

__

Wilson, however, had a different view. He remained convinced that there was more to the immunologist than met the eye, though he had not yet had the opportunity to substantiate his theory. Wilson believed that Cameron was a challenge to – and _for_ \- House, in some as yet unidentifiable way. But while the oncologist was unsure how to characterise House and Cameron's relationship (if it could even be called such), he knew that there was _something_ there. He didn't think it coincidental that Cuddy, the only other person in the hospital who had known House for any length of time, also regarded it positively at the time.

__

Aware that House had mocked his attempt to ask directly what his feelings were, Wilson tried a different tack, picking up on something his friend had said before: "you mentioned that these feelings, whatever they are, have arisen in the past few weeks. Your riddle implied that the shooting was a significant event...". Wilson paused, briefly considering the permutations of House's prior words. It was possible that near death had convinced House to embrace life, to open himself up to its uncertain pleasures, to take a chance on a relationship. But as this thought materialised in Wilson's mind the depth of its banality was so apparent that he almost laughed out loud. He could hear House in his head: _almost dying changes nothing; dying changes everything_. House had been hurt, but he had not died. He had not become a different person.

__

The diagnostician had moved once more to the window. The rain was now heavy, falling in horizontal sheets across the street. He watched as a young couple navigated the sidewalk, hunched together under a flimsy umbrella. The woman squealed as she splashed in a puddle that was deeper than expected. Her companion laughed at her misfortune but pulled her close and kissed her hair. Arm in arm they ploughed on through the night, oblivious to House and to the world. The clock ticked midnight.

__

The tall doctor ran a hand through his hair. "Significant? Of course it was significant - I was shot, for God's sake! I'd think that would qualify as a significant event in a man's life, wouldn't you?".

__

Wilson ignored his friend's snappiness, recognising it as a diversionary tactic. House had made it clear that the shooting had triggered feelings hitherto buried, and it was these feelings, rather than the simple fact (traumatic though it may have been) of the attack itself, that House wished to discuss. Wilson had learned that it was a truism of diagnostics that the most horrific injuries were invariably the simplest – House would say the most boring – to treat. This was not to say that they were easy to overcome; only that gunshot wounds were no puzzle, and discussion of which was certainly no reason to burst into a friend's apartment late at night. Wilson surmised that the gunman had caused thoughts of Cameron to arise in his friend's overactive mind. The problem was emotional rather than physical, more subtle and therefore more interesting than any bullet wound.

__

"So, the shooting has somehow caused feelings for Cameron to emerge and you're concerned about the development", Wilson stated.

__

House turned once again from the window, his face bathed in soft light. Shadows of streetcars danced in irregular intervals on the paintwork. He sighed. "It's not just feelings. It's...it's", House searched for the right word as his friend looked on expectantly. "I _hallucinated_ her", he finished finally with a note of resignation.

__

__


	3. Green on blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is heavily based on the final episode of season 2 and is possibly the final time this story will stick to canon.

Wilson froze. The beer bottle from which he had been sipping suspended in mid-air. He leaned forwards. “You hallucinated her?”.

“Yep”, House shrugged, leaning against the windowsill.

“Hallucinations are not uncommon in near death experiences”, the oncologist said carefully, replacing his beer on the table.  
  
“I’m fully aware of the phenomenon”, remarked House drily. “If you cast your mind back to the start of our discussion, you’ll recall that I wanted help not with the what but with the why”.  
  
“It would help _me_ if you could share more about this hallucination”, retorted Wilson. House flinched imperceptibly; his eyes narrowed, searching the face of his companion, who was still seated. _Ah_ , thought the oncologist, _**this** is the reason for tonight’s impromptu visit_. In all the years they had known each other, Wilson could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times House had willingly come to him for emotional support. In each instance the problem had been overcome only with great difficulty. House’s reaction did not need an interpreter: this was serious, going beyond straightforward feelings. And yet it was in the realm of emotion that House was least comfortable. Wilson recognised that this was the moment of truth. House would either reveal all, or he would march out of the apartment and attempt to self-medicate his conundrum away.  
  
Not for the first time in the evening the tall doctor was silent, his roving blue eyes the only indication that invisible calculations were being made. Once more his host imagined the wheels of his friend’s mind turning, considering this and that course of action. Once more Wilson drank from his now lukewarm beer. Finally, House spoke: “Fine, I'll tell you exactly what happened. Fair warning, it isn’t pretty”.  
  
Over the course of the next hour, one man spoke while the other listened, interrupting only occasionally to clarify a point of detail. New drinks were fetched and forgotten; fresh indentations in the carpet were made.  
  
House confided that the first image conjured up by his delusional mind was of Cameron reading at his bedside (“it was a Dan Brown thriller – can you believe it?!”), her eyes tired and puffy, unwashed hair lank, white arms thin and fragile against the blue of her blouse. He described how he had goaded her to prevent his leaving the hospital room: she wouldn’t do it, he said, because it would require touching him. Too much intimacy to countenance. But she did: one hand over his hand gripping the drip stand, his makeshift cane; another on his shoulder holding him in place. He towered over her. Even in his weakened state, it would be easy to push her aside, this delicate woman in his dream.  
  
But he didn’t force her away. Instead his eyes slid to her face, tracing the arch of her brows, the way that stray wisps of dark hair, having escaped the confines of her tightly coiled bun, now danced around the white skin of her temple. Purposely avoiding Cameron’s eyes, he allowed his gaze to drop to her pale cheeks, on which he could still discern a trace of tear-smudged eye shadow lightly applied – a subtle indication of the sexuality lying beneath the jocular masculinity she assumed like a mask in her male-dominated office. House knew that his colleague dressed austerely at work, as formal in her wardrobe as the diagnostician was not. He suspected that she did this because she feared not being taken seriously. She had confessed her insecurity last year: reading books on social manipulation, assuming a more forceful tone. House had found it faintly pathetic. And yet she had managed to extract an unguarded comment from him.  
  
 _“My opinions shouldn’t be disregarded just because people don’t like me”.  
  
“They like you. Everyone likes you”.  
  
“Do you? I have to know”.  
  
“No...”.  
  
Everybody lies._  
  
Outside the hospital room, House’s eyes had travelled downwards, taking in the shape of Cameron’s lips, pursed in disapproval at his attempting to move further into the hospital and away from the sanctuary of his room. Like her skin, her lips seemed to have lost the colour that he remembered. He thought that she looked utterly tired. This observation caused him a twinge of sorrow and he brought his eyes, finally, up to hers, expecting to find despondency and exhaustion. Perhaps even anger.  
  
But as blue eyes met green, House discovered an expression that didn’t belong on this defeated face. Her gaze was firm and unyielding. Defiant. How many times had House looked into those eyes; he should have known better. Cameron was daring him to look away. In spite of himself, House maintained contact, locked in a struggle of mutual scrutiny. When in Japan as a boy, he had taught himself Latin to while away the time. Looking back now, he suspected that he had chosen Latin because it was as far from Japanese language and culture as possible. A rebel by nature, what better way to demonstrate nonconformity to East Asian values than by reading books in the most significant Western tongue ever spoken? A line from Tacitus came to him as his gaze wrestled with Cameron’s: _nam primi in omnibus proeliis oculi vincuntur_ (for in all battles it is the eyes which are first conquered).  
  
The diagnostician was not one to run from a fight but as blue looked down into green, as he could feel his pulse quicken, he decided that discretion was the better part of valour. There would be future battles with less risk of friendly fire. He would not let this woman conquer _him_. House broke the spell and shook free from her grasp. He had no way of knowing that Cameron, too, had been on the point of surrender. As he turned away, she flexed the fingers that had grasped his arm through the thin cotton of the standard issue gown, the fingers that had pinned his hand to the metal of the drip stand. Her boss’ eyes were pools of aquamarine. She had imagined herself sinking beneath their surface, a willing participant in her own demise. _Not today_. She quietened her racing heart.  
  
House described to Wilson the contours of the case with which he and his team had grappled. The man with exploding body parts. House explained how he had urged his team, even the patient himself, to question the diagnostician’s theories incessantly, probing for unusual or irrational deductions. The oncologist could only smile at this. Even in his delusional mind, House was searching for logic as if it were Ariadne’s thread guiding him through the Minotaur’s Maze. Except that the maze was his own consciousness and a wrong turn might result in a faulty diagnosis and the death of a patient. House talked animatedly about the medicine, but Wilson noticed that in the hallucination Cameron was always present in some capacity. If she wasn’t offering suggestions, talking to the 'subject’ (Wilson had raised his eyebrows slightly) on the team’s behalf, or attempting a tentative treatment, she was in the background opening doors, bringing coffee and food, interpreting test results. House was probably unaware of quite how much he was revealing about himself and about her. Probably.  
  
But it was when House outlined how he had managed to convince the patient to consent to a delicate robotic procedure that Wilson appreciated how central Cameron had become to his friend:  
  
“I had to prove to this guy that the robot was more precise than any human could be…”, House looked down at Wilson as he spoke but the latter could tell that his attention was far off as he lost himself in the recollection, “…so I had Cameron lie on the surgical bed while I worked my magic”.  
  
“You used your own subordinate as a guinea pig?”, asked Wilson incredulously.  
  
House gave a short chuckle. “Well, you know me. I prefer the more interesting diagnostic routes”. But seeing that Wilson didn’t appreciate the joke, he held up his hand as if to pre-empt further criticism. “Hey, don’t blame me. Blame my subconscious - it does what it wants”.  
  
“Quite”. The oncologist stroked his chin, as if lost in thought. “Someone doing whatever they want with no thought for the consequences. Now why does that sound familiar, I wonder...”.  
  
House merely grunted: “may I continue, or do you want to flex your sarcasm muscles again? If the latter, let me know so I can fall asleep. That couch is lumpy but I bet I could drop off faster than you could say ‘all oncologists are morons’”. Wilson smirked but motioned for his friend to resume his tale. It was getting late after all, and as much as he liked his curmudgeonly companion, he liked his bed more.  
  
House had remained standing the entire time and paced the room as he spoke, eyes fixed on the floor. “Cameron wasn’t in any danger. I had complete control of the robotic arms...”. _As you’d expect from someone who spends every other hour on his Gameboy_ , mused Wilson.  
  
House detailed the procedure he performed but Wilson perceived immediately that the young immunologist was the chief object of his friend’s fertile imagination. Cameron’s blouse was the same dark blue she had worn outside the hospital room, her eyes the same green-grey. But House now added new elements. Whereas before her hair had been caught up in a tight bun, now it cascaded around her shoulders as she lay on the bed; before it had been oily and dishevelled through worry, now it shone with a fresh radiance as it reflected the light in the operating theatre. Even the colour had changed, from a dull black to a chocolate brown. Wilson knew enough psychology to recognise that he was witnessing the product of House’s rational mind as it assimilated details and reshaped them according to need. He wasn’t getting a true-to-life portrait of Allison Cameron, but instead an impression of her as she existed in a malfunctioning psyche trying frantically to reboot after the trauma of the shooting.  
  
This was Cameron as House envisioned her: beautiful, prone, inescapably feminine...at his mercy.  
  
House had declared earlier that he had full mastery over the machine, and as he moved to explain how he had demonstrated this fact to the still sceptical patient, Wilson saw the final piece of evidence for his friend’s true feelings slipping into place. The robotic scalpel had darted downwards at House’s command, as if intent on ruining the pale perfection of the flesh below. But instead of biting into skin and bone, the instrument turned back on itself, adjusting its trajectory. Lightly it brushed Cameron’s cheek, sliding from her brow to her mouth. As the steel traced its way downwards, it caused the tiny hairs to stand on end. With the slightest manipulation, House angled the blade so that only its tip remained in contact, always on the move, past her jaw, which twitched involuntarily. The scalpel edged along Cameron’s throat. She knew that the merest slip would be her end, but she didn’t even consider it a possibility. She trusted House completely. She swallowed and tried to slow her breathing.  
  
Behind the command console, House also swallowed. He had brought the mechanism past her collarbone and to the top button of her blouse. With the slightest flick of the control in his left hand he cut it off and, with that in his right, seized hold of the material with the metal fingers. Gently but deliberately, he peeled it away from her body, revealing an expanse of unblemished skin. House continued this movement, pulling the device even more; yet more of his ‘guinea pig’ was unveiled. His eyes swept over Cameron, drinking in her paleness, as if trying to convince himself that he was a disinterested observer, that this act had no deeper meaning beyond medical curiosity. He noticed the white lace edges of her bra and the intricate patterns woven into the fabric. He recognised that it, like the trace of eye shadow detected earlier, were concessions by Cameron to her femininity: tiny chinks in the uncompromising and ambitious shell she presented to the world. Only she knew what lay beneath; only House, here and now, could appreciate it.  
  
 _“House”_ , she whispered.  
  
 _“Don’t move, Cameron”_.  
  
There was more to see. The robotic arm released her clothing. The dark blue garment settled loosely against the swell of her breasts, which rose and fell with shallow breaths. Following a series of precise movements, the metal fingers travelled further down Cameron’s body. Once more material was lifted away from its compliant owner, and once more House could only marvel at the smooth white skin that revealed itself to his sight. With a flick, he called up another piece of apparatus, a small vacuum designed to clear away excess fluid.  
  
Blue eyes burning, House traced the circumference of the immunologist’s navel, lightly touching flesh. Cameron glanced down. From her prone position, she could see only the creased blouse which had gathered up above her abdomen and which hid the mechanical digits from view. She put her head back and focused on what she could feel instead – the touch of the metal, the knowledge that House was fixed on her, that she was beneath him, under his power yet completely safe. She closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh.  
  
From the command position towards the side of the room, House withdrew his eyes from the bank of monitors. Although they gave him a perfect all-angle view of the robot’s handiwork, he wanted to see her. He looked over to where she lay, perfectly still. He observed how her skin caught the light, how her hair fanned all around. She had not moved to pull her ruined blouse more tightly to her body, and his eyes ran down her bare upper chest, drifting over the outline of her breasts which remained largely hidden.  
  
House’s gaze travelled further, taking in her flat abdomen beneath the harsh metal of the robotic arms, which were frozen in place waiting for orders. He imagined walking over to her while she still had her eyes closed and tracing kisses from her mouth to her belly button. But instead he returned to the console for a final time. She looked completely at peace as he manoeuvred the tiny vacuum until it hovered millimetres from her midriff. House activated the device. Cameron inhaled sharply at the new sensation and looked sideways to her boss, who was completely absorbed as he guided the mechanism over her skin and towards the hem of her grey work pants. The stream of warm air caused bumps to appear over the pale flesh and the miniscule hairs to stand on end – he could see a sliver of cream underwear but no more; impassable terrain. For now. He brought up the robotic arms once again…  
  
“Goodbye”.

* * *

_A bang. Pain. Fear. He was on the floor.  
  
On a bed. Moving. Familiar voices: “he was shot. Twice: once in the abdomen, once in the neck”.  
  
“Hello”. The voice was his.  
  
“It’s gonna be OK, House”, she said. Cameron looking down on him just as he had been looking down on her. Poetic. She would be his last sight.  
  
“You don’t know that”.  
  
“I know it, House. I know it”.  
  
Death isn’t so bad.  
  
“House, listen to me. I’ve got you. You’re gonna be fine”. No one could be that naïve. So innocent. So hopeful.  
  
So beautiful…  
  
Her voice grew fainter. He strained to hear it, like a whisper on the wind. Her face receded. He tried to reach out, but his hand would not obey. He could barely make out her eyes, points of green in the dark, seeking blue, diminishing every second until they were nothing.  
  
Almost dying changes nothing but dying changes everything.  
  
Time to die._

* * *

For a long time neither man spoke. The clock ticked in the corner.  
  
“Well?”, asked the tall doctor finally, his face devoid of emotion.  
  
Wilson looked up and shook his head - a whirlwind tour through his friend’s unconscious had left him drained. During the past two hours the oncologist had felt almost like a priest at confessional. He was touched that House had confided in him, that he had confessed so candidly to his feelings. He experienced a sudden surge of empathy. There were many things that could be said, but he decided to be similarly forthright. “Well”, echoed the other, his brown eyes softening, “I reckon you’re in trouble, House. Real trouble”.  
  
The diagnostician sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I was afraid you’d say that”.  
  
Both men looked at each other in companionable silence as the rain hammered against the window and New Jersey slept.


	4. Hot chocolate and House

Elsewhere in Princeton, Cameron woke with a start and fumbled around for the lamp switch on the nightstand. Soft light illuminated the room and she breathed a sigh of relief as the darkness retreated. Nightmares were an increasingly common occurrence. The immunologist could taste adrenaline and feel sweat on her forehead and arms. She waited for her heartbeat to slow, breathing in and out deeply, attempting to empty her crowded mind. The heavy rain against the window was soothing. _I wish I was rain – water doesn’t feel anything_! She snorted at such a ludicrous thought. Evaporating sweat induced a shiver. The alarm clock displayed the time accusingly. 2am. After a few more minutes of silent meditation, she was no closer to dropping off. “Screw it”, Cameron muttered, sliding out from under the plain white sheets.  
  
The young doctor examined the face staring back at her in the bathroom mirror: long chestnut hair still tousled from sleep; fine brows over green-grey eyes, which (an old boyfriend had once told her) were “both comforting and intimidating”, whatever that meant. She used to consider them her best feature until she met a man with eyes so blue her own seemed dull by comparison. A long pale nose which she knew twitched slightly when provoked to anger or amusement. A delicate mouth trained to utter comforting words to patients and acerbic or sarcastic ones to her boss. She believed herself to be pretty, if a little pale, a little thin. Many men had tried to seduce her. Few succeeded. She could still remember Chase’s hungry glances when she had first joined Diagnostics; his attempt to ask her to dinner after a successful case:  
  
_“Do you want to-”.  
  
“No”_.  
  
She still regretted the night they had spent together. Not so much in terms of the sex itself: Chase had been an adequate lover, occasionally adventurous though on the whole a little vanilla; more so because she had given him unrealistic expectations of reciprocal affection. It annoyed her that she had allowed someone to breach the carefully constructed layers of protection she had erected around herself. Most people considered her to be kind and considerate, and she was. She didn’t condone House’s deliberate antagonism towards patients and colleagues. But her manner had been honed through years of practice. She had determined long ago that life was easier if you took an interest, or at least feigned an interest, in others. Combined with her looks and fearsome work ethic, it was the path of least resistance.  
  
But while Cameron was perfectly fine with an outwardly sunny demeanour, she also insisted on a few clear lines in the sand. Men could be with her physically, of course: as she had once informed Chase to his acute embarrassment, the joys of sex were too good to pass up. But to be with her emotionally was another matter entirely. She valued her privacy immensely and preferred distance whenever possible. Although she was willing to open up, she did so only rarely, and never thoughtlessly. This was what had so infuriated her about the one-night stand. The drugs had fogged her mind, robbed her objectivity, given her fellow doctor a way in. She had resolved that it wouldn’t happen again. New mental fortifications had been made and Chase was to be kept at arm’s length until he got the picture.  
  
Cameron padded into the kitchenette and filled the kettle. While she waited for it to boil, the self-evaluation continued and her thoughts drifted, as they often did in idle moments, to House. He thought he had her all figured out. So many things he had said to her over the course of their time together reflected his confidence in this regard:  
  
_You are the most naïve atheist I've ever met.  
  
You are cuddly like grandma’s teddy bear.  
  
You are ‘caring till your eyes pop out’.  
  
You want to fix me.  
  
You don’t love; you need_.  
  
House was the most brilliant man she had ever met. And she couldn’t deny that he possessed a penetrating intellect which afforded him insights most people couldn’t explain or understand. But when it came to her, she realised, he was completely clueless. On the one hand, she found it exhilarating that not even as gifted a human as Dr. Gregory House had seemed able to fully grasp the nuances of her personality. On the other, however, she felt a tinge of sadness. If House didn’t understand her, who would? Had she made herself so hard to unravel that not even the object of her desire could decipher her? An unpleasant thought.  
  
And yet, there were times when the tall diagnostician betrayed a deeper understanding of his subordinate, when he seemed to acknowledge that there was more to Cameron than met the eye. Two instances came immediately to mind. The first had been when he had found her crying in the lab following a case that had reminded her of her dead husband. They had discussed life and death, the reasons for the marriage:  
  
_“You cannot be that nice a person and well-adjusted"_ , he had said.  
  
_“Why not?”.  
  
“Because you wind up crying over centrifuges”.  
  
“Or hating people?”_.  
  
House had been surprised by her then. She still remembered the way his eyes had widened at her response, unwilling to accept analysis from somebody he thought he had figured out. Thinking back, Cameron knew that her boss’s words had been more of a question than a comment – _are_ you that well-adjusted? He wanted to know. If there had been time to answer, the immunologist wasn’t sure how she would have responded. As it happened, however, their pagers came to the rescue. Unresolved situation number one.  
  
The second instance had occurred once again in the lab, and once again he had approached her with a question disguised as a statement:  
  
_“You like me”_. (Cameron had said nothing to this, daring him to ask outright. She only had to wait a moment). _“Why?”_.  
  
_“That’s kind of a sad question”.  
  
“I just want to know what makes you tick”_.  
  
(Cameron had neared him slowly, hands on hips, gaze unwavering). _“What do you want to hear?”_.  
  
Again, House had refused to answer and walked away. Unresolved situation number two.  
  
Having made herself a mug of hot chocolate, the immunologist sat at her dining room table, still deep in thought. She suspected, though couldn’t prove, that her boss found her attractive. Even more intriguingly, she believed that at some point in the future, the facts would emerge – whether by his doing or by hers. The _really_ frustrating thing was that she knew how he ticked and, despite his protestations to the contrary, was convinced that he knew how she did too. House had admitted this early on, when he had observed that she was as damaged as he. How can a man as intelligent as that be so deluded as to his own perceptions? He hadn’t hallucinated his insight – they really were similar people where it mattered, in heart and mind. The main difference was that she wrapped up her calculating self in a warm fuzzy exterior; House didn’t.  
  
Cameron looked into the sweet brown liquid and gave a little sigh, suddenly exhausted by this train of thought. All this philosophising and what she really wanted to tell House was the truth: that she was attracted to him not because he needed fixing but because she found his intelligence intoxicating and loved being around him; because in his aloof and prickly personality she saw a kindred spirit rather than a man to be moulded; because she loved the way his blue eyes shone as he worked through a case, and the way his hand ruffled his hair and stroked his permanent 5 o’clock shadow when he was perplexed.  
  
She imagined telling him other things too: that ever since she had seen him in the shower room following his migraine-induced trip, she had pictured his strong arms holding her tightly; that she imagined running her fingers through the soft hairs on his chest and, in turn, what his own fingers would feel like on her. Fundamentally, she fantasised confessing to him her deepest secrets and desires; that, for all the distance she had cultivated and all the barriers she had constructed, she would demolish it all and lay herself bare if he asked it of her.  
  
Such thoughts belonged in the realm of dreams. If it happened - _if_ it happened – it wouldn’t be like that. Life was messy, and life with House for a boss was messier still. No. When he returned to work, Cameron would continue to play the game. She loved her job, and her feelings for her superior couldn’t be allowed to jeopardise that; she would dish it out and expect to be dished out on in return; she would clear his mail, receive no thanks, and accept it; she would complete his clinic hours when asked; she would care for her patients and maintain her armoured shell. She would embrace fully the life that she had chosen: to work for the most brilliant and difficult doctor in America, the man she desired more than anyone else.  
  
Satisfied that she had suitably hardened her resolve, Cameron washed up the empty mug and retreated to her bedroom. She slipped under the covers and hoped beyond hope that the dream of House’s shooting, her almost constant companion over the last few weeks, would not return for another night.  



	5. Return of the king

Since he had confessed to Wilson his Cameron-centred hallucination, House had been feeling slightly less miserable than usual, if nothing else because it had helped clear his brain for a few days. He would never venture to full happiness, of course. He viewed that particular emotion with considerable distrust, not least because it was so hard to pin down – happiness for one man is pedestrian for another. But more than this, he considered the pursuit of happiness to be a pointless exercise, if only because it implied that it was a state to be achieved through constant self-betterment, like enlightenment, after which you were done. As boring as it was futile.

Much more interesting for House was the quest for _satisfaction_. By its nature, satisfaction was transitory and hence more valuable for its achievement. Satisfaction in solving a particularly knotty case, in looking down Cuddy’s shirt, in slipping pickles into Wilson’s drink when his attention was elsewhere. These things mattered because there was always a chance that the next time things wouldn’t be so easy, or so satisfying. The patient might die without a diagnosis, Wilson’s gaze might never leave his drink, Cuddy might cover up her funbags. _OK, bad example_.  
  
But as he mounted his bike, fixed his helmet and revved the engine, House had cause to think back on Wilson’s words, a possible dampener to his satisfaction: _you’re in trouble, House_. The diagnostician knew that his friend was just looking out for him, attempting to anticipate a potentially dangerous emotional entanglement with a view to minimising the fallout when it inevitably came crashing down. House couldn’t blame Wilson. Not only was the latter a caring man anyway, but he had witnessed first-hand the disintegration of the former’s relationship with Stacey and, to be sure, the disintegration of House himself. No doubt he wanted to avoid a repeat.  
  
But the current predicament was much different: Cameron was unlikely to shear off his leg the moment he fell asleep and then claim that it was for his own benefit, for example. The woman who did _that_ was trouble. House knew he was being slightly unfair on Stacey here – if she had refused to act, he might be dead. Regardless, this was his own mind and his own conversation. In this space he didn’t have to be fair to anyone but himself. Frankly, he didn’t have to be fair to anyone outside this space either.  
  
House continued his internal monologue as he weaved seamlessly in and out of traffic, the throaty roar of the engine a soothing accompaniment to his thoughts. Enough of Stacey. If the nephrologist was honest, he knew that he found Cameron physically attractive. Always had. Cuddy had insisted on a female hire following Chase’s appointment, so it was bound to be a woman. There had been several exceptional candidates, though, and although Cameron had graduated near the top of her class, won a prestigious internship at the Mayo Clinic even, he knew that Cuddy had been surprised that he had settled on the immunologist. Except that she hadn’t been surprised – not once she had seen the pale beauty of the face, the incisiveness of the green eyes, the curve of the mouth, the flowing chestnut hair. Steady. House shook his head slightly as he waited for the lights to turn. Cameron was extremely pretty. He had told her this himself. But prettiness was not enough, at least not for him. The whole question needed more thought.  
  
As far as he understood it, there were two central problems to be solved before he could achieve any kind of closure. The first concerned his feelings towards Allison Cameron – did he truly like her or was it simply a passing fancy stirred up by near death? The second followed logically from the first – what to do about it, if these feelings did exist. There were many variables to think through, but this was where the nephrologist excelled, and making problems tangible was the only way to arrive at a solution. Wilson had complained that it was impossible to carry out a differential diagnosis on attraction. _We’ll see about that_. Content that he at least had a tentative plan of attack, House gunned the accelerator, leaving a cyclist spluttering on his fumes. He had somewhere to be.

* * *

The two men glared at each other. “I’m telling you, you’re wrong, and that’s all there is to it”. Foreman got up from his chair and crossed over to the kitchen area where Cameron was preparing coffee. He took a cup, inclined his head in thanks and began stirring in milk and sugar.  
  
“I just don’t see how you can even say that, _Eric_. You have insufficient information to make an informed diagnosis. If you’d just sit down and let me educate you as to the facts, you’d see straightaway that I’m right”. Chase was angry. His surfer blonde hair was becoming increasingly ruffled as he ran his hand through it and his eyes were bright. He started tapping his right foot on the floor in agitation.  
  
“I don’t _need_ any more information, _Robert_. I’ve seen enough. Diagnostics is an inexact science – you’d know this if you spent more time observing yours truly-”, Foreman pointed to himself to make doubly sure Chase understood, “-and less time salivating after the nurses”.  
  
Chase got up from his chair so suddenly that it rocked back on its legs. He rolled up his shirt sleeves as if preparing for a fight but instead placed both hands firmly on his hips, widened his stance and jutted his chin. From her position at the side of the room, Cameron thought he looked like a peacock. She didn’t say this out loud. “Oh, that’s rich”, scoffed the Australian. “You’re not impressing anyone, OK, House isn’t here. And while I agree that diagnostics is an inexact science, in _this_ instance, all the relevant facts are on the table if only you’d let go of your stubborn refusal to see them!”.  
  
“Like I said, I know enough”, Foreman enunciated the last three words slowly and deliberately, as if speaking to a petulant child.  
  
“So, let me get this straight”. Chase was really getting into it now. Tiny flecks of spittle were forming at the edges of his mouth. From her position at the side of the room, Cameron thought he looked like a Rottweiler. Again, she didn’t say this out loud. “You honestly believe”, he paused in disbelief, “that baseball takes more skill and fitness than cricket? I just, I just don’t know where to begin with that. It’s plain wrong on so many levels”.  
  
“Nope. You’re wrong”, Foreman paused, and then added in what the watching immunologist thought to be a surprisingly passable Australian accent, “ _mate_ ”.  
  
Chase clenched and unclenched his fists but ploughed on regardless. Cameron also clenched, but not for the same reason. “I mean, for one thing”, he fumed, “you Americans insist on wearing _gloves_ to catch the ball – what is that? Your professional athletes need help to play their own sport because the ball is so hard it’ll hurt their poor hands. And don’t get me started on the bases – you need breaks after every run. There’s a reason no one plays baseball outside America – it’s for fat people to play and for fat people to watch”.  
  
Foreman raised his eyebrows. “Hey, it’s one thing to abuse our sport but another thing to abuse our country, man”. He was reminded to take a sip of his cooling coffee as he saw Cameron preparing her own.  
  
“It’s not abuse if it’s true”, retorted Chase as he walked over to claim his own drink. He poured in some milk and offered it to Cameron. “No thanks”, she deadpanned, “I take it black. Like my men”. Chase’s mouth dropped open and Foreman choked into his mug. Cameron’s eyes twinkled. She had grown bored of the conversation and the overflowing testosterone. It was enough that she had to put up with sports metaphors from House, her boss, but an entire _debate_? And a debate with her _colleagues_? That was completely uncalled for and had to be shut down in case they got the insane idea that sport was a viable topic in the office.  
  
Neither man could think of anything to say after this, so instead the three fellows drank in silence. They were aware that the tension, if it could even be called that, derived more from the fact that this was the first time in a while that they had, firstly, been in this room and secondly, that they had been together. Following the shooting, Cuddy had put them all on mandated leave pending psychological assessment. Once they had been cleared to return to work, they had been redistributed around the hospital: Chase to surgery, Foreman to neurology and Cameron to the ER. The Diagnostics department had been officially suspended whilst the offices were refurbished, and its Head recuperated at home. Though neither of them would likely admit it, they were secretly thankful to the Dean for organising it so. It had been refreshing to get away from familiar terrain, familiar colleagues. The fellows had rarely seen each other over the course of the last few weeks, and when they had, it had been only a nod here or a glance there. They had not met for lunch or dinner. It had still felt too raw.  
  
For her part, Cameron was glad to be back. Certainly, the ER was fulfilling in many ways: the cases tended to be serious and as a result she had always returned home after a long shift confident in having made a real difference. And she had to admit that she enjoyed the respect and attention she received as a fellow of the mysterious and brilliant Dr. House. She had not yet spoken to Chase and Foreman about this, but it had quickly become apparent that the cane-wielding curmudgeon – _no more cane, Allison_ – held a kind of sadistic allure for the nurses and doctors of PPTH. And as a member of the inner circle, she had been asked many times: so what is he _really_ like? One young resident had explained the situation almost apologetically:  
  
 _“You see, Dr. Cameron, you are a Ring Wraith to House’s Sauron”_. She had looked at him blankly. _“The Darth Vader to his Emperor?”_. Again, no response. _“The Crabbe and Goyle to his Draco Malfoy…?”_. Now she understood.  
  
But although the ER had been a welcome diversion, it didn’t hold the same appeal as diagnostic medicine, which by its nature was obscure and challenging. Patients only made it to House’s door if other doctors had been unable to unravel the mystery. Consequently, working in this office felt at times like cracking a code or heading up a top-secret investigation, the details of which were available only to a select few. It was exhilarating. And then there was the man himself. In truth, Cameron had struggled to deal with House’s condition, and though she had considered doing so, did not confide in her counsellor that she had been having nightmares. She thought it best to work through the problem in her own time, at her own pace, without external pressure. She would be methodical and thorough, just as she had been taught to work by House. If she couldn’t be with him, then following his method was the next best thing.  
  
Foreman finished his coffee first and started to wash the cup in the sink. Seeing this, the other two quickly gulped down their own remnants and placed the empties besides Foreman’s, who merely chuckled and set about soaping up the water. “Hey, Cameron”, he asked with a glint in his eye, “do you really like black guys? ‘Cos if so…”, he left it hanging.  
  
Cameron’s nose twitched. “We live in 21st century America, Foreman. I do not discriminate, no, sir”.  
  
“Don’t I know it”, muttered Chase.  
  
Cameron glanced at the Australian, but let it slide. It was the first day back at school, after all. She continued: “but I’m afraid, gentlemen, that I have learned the hard way not to mix work and pleasure. So, unfortunately, you two don’t stand a chance”.  
  
“And what kind of chance do _I_ have?”, inquired a deep voice. The three fellows started at the interruption and turned to see a familiar figure in the doorway.  
  
House had come home.


	6. Top cat

House ambled into the joint office and flung his rucksack onto the nearest chair. Chase recovered first and began walking towards his boss, who had thrown himself into a seat at the end of the table and was stretching both arms above his head like a cat awaking from a deep sleep. "It's good to have you back, House", said Chase, extending his hand.

The diagnostician looked at the proffered hand pointedly. "What, are we handshakers now? I've literally never shaken your hand before, Chase, and I'm not going to start now. I've no idea where you Australians have been, or what kind of third world germs you're carrying". Chase's hand fell to his side.

House yawned and scratched the side of his face absentmindedly before continuing: "Dr. Foreman? I have to say that I'm surprised to see you here after your disappointing showing the last time we were in this room together. A man pulls a gun on me and homeboy over here does nothing but watch – I thought you guys were always packing? If word reaches the street, well, it doesn't bear thinking about, does it?". Foreman said nothing but instead folded his arms across his chest with a smirk. "Just kidding. Up high, my man". House threw his arm forward, fist clenched. The neurologist sighed, but extended his own fist all the same, meeting his boss in an imaginary bump from across the room.

"Ah, Dr. _Cameron_ ". House got up from his position at the table and starting walking towards the immunologist, who upon hearing his voice from the doorway had remained rooted to the spot, next to Foreman. As House approached her, she had a sudden vision of a panther stalking its prey. The nephrologist came right up to where she was standing, looming over her. Cameron tried to look into his eyes but found that she couldn't, for fear of what she might see there, what he might see in her. "Dr. Cameron", repeated House. His voice, which had been hitherto cheery, took on a gravelly quality. He brought his large hand up to her chin and tilted her face upwards, forcing her to look into his eyes which, thanks to the morning sunshine filtering through the nearby window, looked almost supernaturally blue. She gathered herself: "House?". It emerged in a whisper. Her throat was suddenly parched.

"Is that fresh coffee I smell? Would you do the honours? You know how I like it". House winked at her and turned away. Cameron, who hadn't realised that she had been holding her breath, exhaled softy, hoping not to draw attention to the fact. She ran her tongue over her dry lips and turned back to the coffee pot. She couldn't have noticed the grimace of displeasure which flashed across Chase's face. The Australian, still smarting from House's abrupt dismissal, had seen everything. He didn't think he deserved such shoddy treatment, and he certainly didn't appreciate Cameron's heightened reaction to their boss. She clearly had something for him still, despite everything he had done.

Chase simply couldn't understand it. House, who treated her like a glorified table-tender, received all the attention while _he_ , who had always treated her with respect and care, got nothing but the cold shoulder. Sooner or later she would see House for what he really was. Chase had nothing against House per se: he was a brilliant doctor and cared, in his own warped manner, for those around him. But he couldn't fathom how women found the grumpy misanthrope attractive, and he was convinced that Cameron would be much better off if she left her infatuation for the old man behind.

House started patrolling the room, hands clasped behind his back, oblivious to the dark look which had swept over Chase's boyish features. "Since it is our first day back at school, you kids will be delighted to learn that daddy has planned a steady reintroduction-".

"Sorry", interrupted Foreman, "but if we're running with the school metaphor, you are surely 'teacher', not 'daddy'".

House stopped his circuit and whirled to face the neurologist. "Man, you are on fire today, Ice Cube. Up high again". Foreman didn't move so House instead bumped his own fists together. "You left me hanging, but I'll still award five points to Slytherin for your initiative".

"Slytherin? Why am I in Slytherin?", retorted Foreman.

Cameron handed House his fresh cup of coffee and replied for her boss: "y'know….". Foreman looked utterly confused. Cameron sighed, uncomfortable that she had to spell it out. "Y'know, because Slytherin tends to produce, ah…". House sipped his coffee but still managed to raise an eyebrow, "… _dark_ wizards", Cameron finished quietly.

" _Doctor_ Cameron", House spewed into his drink, "what a _horrible_ thing to say. For your information, I placed Foreman in Slytherin because of his boundless ambition and complete disregard for other people's feelings. Both admirable qualities worthy of recognition. But for you to turn it into a debate on race, well, frankly I'm appalled". House placed his mug on the table before continuing: "you're lucky that I'm not one for diligent record-keeping or else this unfortunate occurrence would find its way into your personnel file, make no mistake about that!". Silence.

"Anyway", remarked House conversationally, taking up his mug again, "if anyone deserves to be in Slytherin, it's you, Cameron", he paused, before whispering conspiratorially into her ear: "since you…like it black". The young immunologist gasped and could feel her face burning, not only because House had obviously heard far more of the fellows' prior conversation than he let on, but also because the sensation of his warm breath on her ear, combined with his stubble against her cheek and his unique aroma in her nostrils, produced an unexpectedly erotic sense to shudder through her body. The one thing about House that she had missed the most was his smell. It was hard to describe and a complete one off. She had no idea if it was simply some sort of cologne or a complex natural combination of the books, wood, leather and scotch of his apartment. She had never smelled it on another man before or since and hoped not to: it was _House_.

While Cameron had been standing at the coffee pot listening to her boss talk, she had been stealing surreptitious glances. She couldn't deny that the weeks off had treated him well. His skin had developed an attractive, slightly bronzed hue, which placed the brightness of his eyes in higher relief (though it had the unfortunate side effect of making her even more self-conscious of her paleness). His hair was as dark as she remembered, though shot through with a touch more grey, and his mouth seemed readier to smile.

The biggest change, obviously, was in his movements. She had become so used to his lopsided gait and hunched posture that to see him now in full flow was like watching a different person. Not for the first time this morning, she thought of a panther as he prowled the office with a feline grace. Cameron knew that House had loved rowing and lacrosse before his infarction and she suspected, with the way that his shoulders and arms moved, the way that his legs betrayed not the slightest glimmer of a limp, that he had resumed his exercise regimen. There was no other way to put it: the diagnostician radiated power. Combined with his sharp intelligence, House filled out a heady sight. _Pull it together, Allison, for God's sake_. Suddenly determined to break free from the spell, she took his empty mug to the sink.

"As I was saying", resumed House, seemingly unaware of the effect he was having on his youthful subordinate, "a gentle reintroduction. To that end, we – and by 'we' I mean 'you' – will be spending today catching up on our – and by 'our' I mean 'my' – charts, mail and reports. As you can imagine, there's a frightful backlog, and not just since the, ah, shooting". A tiny flicker passed over House's face. "Since we are among friends, I don't mind confessing to you that I may have let the paperwork slide a bit even before that".

"Sliding for how long, exactly?", muttered Chase between clenched teeth. He had witnessed Cameron's reaction to House both times. This, combined with the revelation that his highly-paid fellows, three of the best doctors in the hospital, would be completing his paperwork for the rest of the day, had soured his mood beyond rescue. "Oh, it's hard to say", mused House, flexing his fingers, "but if you were to hold a _gun_ to my head – sorry, poor choice of words", corrected the nephrologist, having seen Cameron flinching, "I'd say, about three months. Give or take a month. So", he finished, "you'd best get started".

"And what are you going to be doing whilst we're completing your chores?", asked Foreman, who had expected this assignment or something like it. He'd suspected that House would want to re-establish his authority over the department as quickly as possible. The nephrologist was an alpha male, and somebody had not only trespassed on his territory, already an unforgivable offence, but had almost killed him, thereby undermining him in front of his subordinates. Foreman had known House long enough to acknowledge that he did not brook competitors, and he did not respond well to threats. Even Vogler, brimful of money and political clout, had been seen off in the end. This is what Chase, with his own Cameron obsession, didn't seem to understand. If it came to a straight fight for her affections it would get bloody, of that Foreman was certain.

"Me?", pronounced House, as if taken by surprise. "Well, I hadn't really thought about it, but I suppose I'd best check in with the principal. Her ovaries will be bursting to see me, no doubt". He turned to leave, hand on the door handle. "Hey, Cameron?", he asked, as if a thought had suddenly come to him.

"What is it, House?", sighed the immunologist. She had put on her glasses to read a pile of charts and peered at her boss over the lenses. Despite himself, and unknown to the others, House's pupils widened. He loved her in glasses.

"You never answered my question".

"What question?".

" _Do_ I have a chance?", he asked.

Cameron blushed again and started to stammer a reply: "I, er… you, er".

"Good to know, thanks!". With that, he turned on his heel and jogged from the room, his sneakers squeaking off into the distance and out of sight.

House was back, and Diagnostics was again open for business.


	7. Two conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is tagged 'romance' and I'm very aware that there has been very little of that. Rest assured: it's coming!

It was only Monday morning, but Cuddy was already beginning to feel that it was going to be one of those weeks. The Dean had spent the weekend finalising her presentation to the Board regarding the increased precautions adopted in the aftermath of the attack. Security consultants had been commissioned and a survey conducted amongst the staff to ascertain whether they would appreciate a more visible protective presence in the common areas. She didn't think it a good look to have armed guards loitering around, but it was a necessary evil. Aside from this, the hospital was still to secure a reliable sponsor following last year's debacle with Vogler and its medical insurers were using this uncertainty to increase their premiums – no doubt the Board would interrogate her on this too. And she had yet to read fully through the psychiatric reports on House's fellows, despite them being several weeks old. Lots to do, but this was her job, and she wouldn't have it otherwise.

All the same, it was a fraught situation. The shooting itself had caused obvious distress and Cuddy was still working through the consequences. But it had also given a few on the Board further ammunition to push for the shutdown of Diagnostics and the termination of its Head's tenure. Some of them, while disapproving of Vogler's heavy-handed methods, could nevertheless see his point regarding House's idiosyncratic blend of blatant nonconformity and brash rudeness. Although none of them had said this out loud, she knew that they placed a part of the blame for the attack on House himself – he routinely aggravated those around him, the argument went, so was it so surprising that someone had finally snapped? Add to that the high cost of the department, and she was under some pressure to make a clean break from her troublesome employee and re-purpose his funding.

But Cuddy had known for many years that House was a man apart, both in his medical ability and in his manners; had even put aside a portion of the budget to pay for potential legal expenses arising from his unorthodox methods. She fully accepted that Diagnostics took up a disproportionate share of hospital funds and equipment, and that its boss was a pain to manage, but she considered it a price worth paying. House and his team had, over the years, saved hundreds of people with seemingly incurable symptoms, people who would otherwise have died. And even setting aside the preservation of life argument, the fact that his work was so often on the boundary of medical knowledge meant that his team published some spectacular papers – she had received more requests for keynote speeches from House and his team than all of her other doctors combined. The Dean had given it a lot of thought and believed the intangible benefit and status that accrued to PPTH for hosting Diagnostics outweighed the very tangible dent it made in the hospital coffers.

There was a further factor in House's favour – Cuddy was fond of him. She would never admit it, but she considered him a good friend – probably, aside from Wilson, her only friend – and felt protective of him and his peculiarities. She hadn't given their relationship much thought, but, despite the fact that she was younger than he, she supposed that House was like a little brother. House was strange, he was unique. And because he was unique, he was manageable. _A house full of Houses_ , she mused, _now **that** would be hard to contain_. Lost in her reverie, she knocked to the floor the file containing her presentation papers and they now lay strewn across the carpet. She sighed and bent down to retrieve them.

"In answer to your implicit question, yes, your ass does look big in that", came the instantly recognisable voice from behind her. Cuddy straightened and smoothed her skirt. "Your opinions on my wardrobe have always been precious to me, House", she answered, still with her back to the door.

House smirked and made no move to help his boss in regathering the scattered documents. Cuddy peered over her shoulder at him: "would you mind? I have a meeting with the Board in twenty minutes".

"I'd love to help you, Dr. Cuddy, but I'm under strict orders not to place undue stress on my leg. So, I think it's best that I observe you from this seat. If you know what I mean". He winked at the administrator and sank into the big chair by the door. Cuddy rolled her eyes. Nearly two months off, bullets in the neck and abdomen, and he still hadn't changed. Good for the hospital, good for House. Bad for her. Life was getting back to normal. "It's funny you mention the leg and keeping off it", intoned the now standing administrator. "Thing is, I've heard through the grapevine that you've started exercising again, so I don't really follow the logic there".

"Well, that's because you're not an _actual_ doctor. But don't worry: keep your head down, work hard, and you'll get there eventually". House gave her a double thumbs up from across the room.

Cuddy smiled sweetly at him. "How is the leg anyway, still going strong?", she inquired with a hint of trepidation.

"No complaints, ma'am, no complaints", he replied. "Thanks on that front, by the way. Couldn't have done it without you".

Cuddy inclined her head in acknowledgement. "Settled back in with the team?".

"You'll be delighted to discover that they are working busily and solving a great many medical mysteries as we speak", said House, who had begun to rearrange the cushions into interesting shapes.

"Great – I'll be able to sleep tonight safe in the knowledge that your paperwork is up to date". House snorted and got up, as if about to leave, but Cuddy stopped him: "was there something else you wanted to tell me before you leave, House?".

The tall doctor made as if to consider the question deeply. "Well", he started, "I suppose I could offer my assessment on the rest of your body. Let's see…the sisters appear to be in good shape, and-".

" _Not_ what I meant", interjected Cuddy firmly.

"Well, in that case, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about".

"Ah, well, alright then". Cuddy stacked the retrieved papers on her desk and checked her email, apparently finished with her employee.

"May I be excused, mistress?", inquired House. Not waiting for an answer, he opened the door and walked out.

"Oh, and House?", called Cuddy towards his retreating back, which paused in the outer office, "how's _Cameron_ nowadays?". House visibly stiffened at this. After a moment's hesitation he carried on into the lobby. He had a date with a certain talkative oncologist.

"All I'm asking is that you tread carefully!", she bellowed from her desk. _Like he didn't know that already_ , he thought.

* * *

Wilson pressed the button for the elevator. He had not enjoyed that meeting, not one bit. One of his staff, whom he had hired on good recommendation, had been found in the disabled toilets on the fifth floor sniffing a line of cocaine. The young man's career in medicine was over, and, as Head of Oncology, Wilson now had to file a report to Cuddy, who had been forced to skip the meeting over her own rendezvous with the Board. There was no way he could have known about the man's drug problem, but it still rankled: Wilson had chosen this hire over several exceptional candidates and he took it as a personal slight that one of his own had broken bad. Wilson unlocked the door, entered his darkened office and switched on the light.

"Well, well, well. Sinon has returned to finish what he started", exclaimed House, who had been lying on his friend's sofa in the gloom.

Wilson jumped in surprise. "House - what are you doing in my office in the dark, for God's sake!?". The oncologist, recovering quickly, moved to his desk, draped his jacket over the chair, and woke his computer up from standby. "And who the hell is Sinon?".

House opened his mouth in mock surprise. "Virgil's _Aeneid_? Greek spy? Convinced the Trojans to bring the Horse into the city?". Wilson looked blankly back at him. "I tell you, sometimes I weep for the state of American education".

"Your concern is noted. And you still haven't told me what you're doing here".

"Isn't it obvious? I'm lying in wait for my treacherous friend". House got up from his prone position and walked over to sit on the corner of the desk.

"Right. And what did I do?".

"Cuddy knows about my little…dream concerning Cameron. I wonder how that happened. Any ideas, _Jimmy_?". House's eyes flashed dangerously.

Wilson knew that his friend would find out eventually, but he could still have wished for a bit more time to marshal arguments for the defence. There was nothing for it now but unvarnished honesty. "Cuddy cares for you, House. We both do. And I wanted a second opinion".

"A second opinion on what?".

"On you". House scoffed at this, but Wilson held up his hand. "Hallucinations are serious, House, whether you wish to accept it or not-".

"You don't think I'm taking this seriously? Did you even listen to me the other night?", House interjected heatedly.

Wilson placed both his palms on the desk and lowered his voice in what he hoped was a conciliatory gesture. "All I'm saying is that this is unusual territory for us both. I wanted to make sure that I was giving you good advice, that I was doing the right thing".

House experienced a surge of hot anger. "Advice? You haven't given me any advice except that I'm in trouble, whatever the fuck that means. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. I know I'm not all read up on professional policy, but I'm pretty sure falling for your much younger subordinate is a pretty big no-no as far as things go". As soon as he said the words, House got up from his sitting position on the desk and made his way over to the window, which looked out onto the wood-lined avenues in the hospital grounds.

But Wilson had noticed. "You…you're _falling_ for her?", he asked quietly.

"No, no. It was…a slip of the tongue. I haven't decided yet. She has many annoying qualities. I'm just trying to remember them is all. Seeing her here today. It's been so long since…". House trailed off, unwilling to continue. Wilson got up to join his friend by the window, his own annoyance at the drugged-up staffer completely faded. Together they watched people milling about below: patients taking guided walks under the watchful eyes of nurses or family members; groups of friends enjoying a leisurely lunch on the sun-drenched grass banks; children running about with joyful faces. All oblivious to the two men above.

Wilson turned to face the diagnostician. "You want to talk about it? I'll buy you lunch".

House exhaled through his nose. "I don't want to talk about it. This is something I have to deal with myself. But I will take you up on lunch". Wilson nodded and went to retrieve his jacket and wallet from the back of the desk chair. House waited by the door, where he was soon joined by the other doctor. "James?", asked House, turning to address him squarely in the face.

"Yes, Greg?".

"Promise me that you will never tell Cameron about my…confession. This stays between us, understand?". House's blue eyes were shining with an emotion the other couldn't identify.

"You mean the confession about the hallucination or the one where you're in love with her?".

House spoke through clenched teeth. "I'm _not_ in love with her. I'm still _thinking_. Got it?".

Wilson held up his hands in surrender. "OK, OK. I solemnly swear not to disclose to Cameron whatever it is you're feeling regarding love, hallucinations, or anything else. I promise to uphold the illusion that you are an unfeeling robot". Seemingly satisfied, House opened the door and stepped into the corridor. Wilson turned off the light and locked his office. Both men walked to the cafeteria together, their steps soon swallowed up in the hustle and bustle of the hospital.


	8. Café Spoleto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rather than attempt to cast back into 2006-7 (who can even remember that far back) going forward I've simply updated House for modernity. So, phones have excellent cameras and Bush is not the president. Finally, and this is only for this chapter, a cricket ball is visible on House's desk in several episodes, and in the season 6 episode '5 to 9' he can be seen brandishing a cricket bat. I'm assuming this was a nod to Laurie who is an enormous cricket fan. So am I. There will likely be further allusions to cricket in the future. For those of you who have no idea what it is, you have my pity (and my scorn).
> 
> Sorry for the long note. They will be kept to a minimum in the future. As always, thanks for reading, and do feel free to drop a review if you liked or disliked. Feedback good or bad is always welcome.

House was alone in his office waiting for news on the patient. It had been a busy first week back and his Gameboy remained in its drawer. Not only this, but he had yet to decide what to do, and what to _feel_ , about Cameron. He needed more time. So, to cover up his indecision, he had treated her in the usual manner: occasional flirtation with a dose of snappiness. It was a messy problem. House sighed and took hold of the cricket ball on his desk, examining it. The leather was a deep cherry red despite a few scuffed patches where it had impacted against the wall and floor. The stitching on the seam was largely intact. Cricket was a sport he had long enjoyed and, when it had been necessary to get something out of Chase, they spoke about it. Not frequently though – he didn't like to get too close to the workforce. At that, a vision of Cameron shimmered through his mind. _Go away_.

The diagnostician thought on Chase while tossing the ball from hand to hand in the gloom of the office. The latter had been noticeably frosty since the team's reuniting, often contributing to differentials with that faintly martyred air House found so unappealing, or else finding a way to dispute proposed treatments whenever possible. Ordinarily House wouldn't have given the matter a second thought, but since the hallucination he had come to appreciate how much what one felt could influence how one acted. More than this, though, Chase had generally been a loyal subordinate (Vogler fiasco aside), and his behaviour was somewhat out of character. Out of the three of them, House could predict their reactions to any given command: Foreman wouldn't do it all, or he would do his own thing; Cameron would do it but with clear moral objections; and Chase would do it no questions asked. The Australian was the archetypal yes man. His sudden intractability was puzzling and something to think on. It couldn't have anything to do with Cameron – they had barely spoken all week. But this was for another day. House closed his eyes and promptly fell asleep.

**Several days earlier**

Foreman let out an enormous yawn and threw his pen onto the pile of papers stacked before him. He looked over at his companions whom, he could see, were similarly flagging. Cameron's hair, normally tightly coiled, had largely escaped its confines and was tumbling piecemeal down to her shoulders, and her bespectacled eyes looked bleary. Meanwhile Chase had loosened his tie and now sat at the computer with his hands clasped behind his head looking into the middle distance. Together, the three of them had made a serious dent in House's paperwork. As for the man himself, they had not seen him since late morning – no doubt he had clocked off a few hours ago. Foreman looked forlornly into his coffee mug which contained nothing but sludgy dregs. He fancied something stronger, and some food wouldn't go amiss either. "How are we getting on?", he asked.

"I think I've done as much as I can manage for one day", said Cameron, removing her glasses and rubbing the eyes beneath. "Were you aware House has started signing his name, and writing snippets of his reports, in foreign languages? I was able to interpret 'Gregor Haus', 'Gregorio Casa' and 'Grégoire Maison', and 'Gregorius Domus' was manageable. But it took me a while to decipher…", she held up the relevant papers: Γρηγόριος οἶκος and グレゴリーハウ.

Chase scoffed at this. "Well, if he spent less time dazzling us all with his linguistic ability and more time with patients, he'd be Mother Teresa reborn". Cameron shrugged. She regarded House's remarkable command of languages as just another dimension of his virtuosity. Her colleague may complain that their boss was showing off, and he would be right. But Cameron believed that House didn't have to be humble. Humility was for everyone else, and House was _not_ everyone else. It was part of his charm.

"You finished your allocation, Chase?", Foreman asked.

"Yes. I have answered all his important emails, archived most of them, and deleted the rest. I truly feel that I have lived up to the Hippocratic oath today".

Foreman raised an eyebrow at the younger man's waspishness but remained silent. Chase had been in a bad mood all day. "D'you guys fancy celebrating our first day back? I'm starving".

Cameron replaced her glasses and got up from the table, shuffling papers as she did so. "Sure. What're you thinking?".

"Café Spoleto?". The immunologist experienced a flash of adrenaline, but she nodded at the suggestion. "Chase?", he added. Maybe a nice meal would soften their colleague's antagonism. 

The intensivist sighed but inclined his head in agreement. "Fine".

"Great. Outside in ten?".

* * *

Foreman took a final mouthful and placed his knife and fork on the plate with a satisfying clang. Chase was also nearly finished. Cameron, meanwhile, was making hard work of her plate of pasta. This was not unusual – she rarely seemed to eat much at all – but combined with her taciturn demeanour it caused him to think that something was up. Add to this the fact that Chase's mood had not improved much even after a good meal and wine, and Foreman was becoming suspicious. It was entirely possible that the two had got into an argument before returning to work. It was unbelievable that they had slept together, but they had, and maybe their mutual awkwardness was the result of a lovers' spat which had occurred behind the scenes.

In the event, the neurologist was both right and wrong. His colleagues were indeed thinking on matters of the heart, and, for one of them, such matters did concern the other. Chase wasn't happy and it was down to a combination of factors. Firstly, following House's shooting and time away, the Australian had been hoping to spend more time with Cameron with a view to asking her out on a date. But since Cuddy had redistributed them all throughout the hospital, he had not had much of a chance to see, let alone talk to, her. Secondly, if nothing else, he had hoped that distance from House would cause Cameron's feelings for their boss to fade. The intensivist had been the first person to whom she had revealed her attraction for House, and it had caused him great discomfort. On the one hand it was none of his business whom she liked. _But on the other_ …

Chase had liked Cameron for a long time. This in itself was a novel experience. Generally, he was happy moving from one woman to the next, running little risk of becoming attached to any one person. It helped, of course, that he knew himself to be a handsome man. But with Cameron, his charms hadn't worked. When he had first asked her out, she had shot him down before he had even finished his sentence. He had been respectful, defended her to House and kept his distance. But he wanted more than a one-night stand – he wanted a meaningful relationship. What frustrated him the most was that the immunologist refused to see it because she was so starry-eyed about their boss. House was completely wrong for her. Chase stabbed the last piece of veal with his fork and chewed it aggressively.

Foreman was fed up with his companions' monosyllabism. "I have a question. What is up with you two? Did you have an argument or something?".

"Huh?". Cameron looked up from her plate. She had been turning over the same piece of pasta for the last five minutes completely lost in her own thoughts. "An argument? No, why would you think that?", she asked.

"Well, neither of you have said anything for the past few minutes and you barely acknowledged my joke about House".

"House?". Cameron seemed to perk up at the mention of his name. Chase snorted into his glass of wine. The brunette felt her anger rise. "What the hell is your problem, Chase?".

" _My_ problem? I could ask you the same thing", retorted Chase. The mention of House's name and, again, Cameron's reaction to it was the final straw. "You were all over House earlier. Don't you have any self-respect?". Foreman was completely flummoxed at the sudden burst of aggression from his normally measured colleague.

" _What_? How was I 'all over him'? And even if I was – which I _wasn't_ – what business is it of yours?". Cameron's anger was on the point of exploding. "How _dare_ you comment on my self-worth. You have no right to tell me how I can or cannot behave".

But rather than cow Chase, it spurred him on. "You wanna know why Cameron is so quiet, Foreman? I'll tell you – it's because this is the place she had her disastrous date with the great doctor House last year, the place where it all came crashing down. Yet she still pines after him, yearning for his attention. When will she learn?". People at the neighbouring tables were beginning to stare.

"No, Chase, when will _you_ learn. I am not attracted to you, OK? You and I will _never_ happen. I'm not interested. Frankly, after this little display, I'm surprised I even slept with you at all, drugs or no". Cameron could not remember ever being so angry. She was used to men telling her what to do, had been dealing with them her whole life, but for Chase to reflect his own anger at House back on her was beyond the pale. The worst thing was that he was right – she _had_ been thinking about her boss. Seeing him today, being in this restaurant, had brought up all her old feelings, so much so that she had been forced to remind herself of the pact that she had made over her hot chocolate. _Be strong_. She got up and buttoned her coat. "Thanks for dinner, Foreman. See you tomorrow". With that, she was gone.

Foreman had said nothing throughout the exchange. He looked over at Chase. The Australian's anger had burned out and he looked shamefaced. "I've fucked up, haven't I?", he asked. The neurologist nodded. Chase ran his hands through his hair. "I can't help it, Foreman. I like her".

"You have a funny way of showing it", replied the other.

"No, you don't understand. I _like_ her".

"Ah", said Foreman. He had suspected as much. Pieces were beginning to fall into place. Chase had declared for Cameron and, if the former was correct, the latter had declared for House. The biggest unknown was House – how would he react if he discovered Chase's interest in the immunologist, and, the most important question of all, how did the man himself feel about Cameron? Where that left Foreman was anyone's guess. He didn't have the answers. All he knew was that things at PPTH were likely to get uncomfortable if the situation was not properly managed. So much for a gentle reintroduction to Diagnostics. The neurologist rubbed his face with a sigh and made to retrieve his wallet. "I'll get the check, shall I?".

* * *

"House? House…". Somebody was shaking him.

"Huh? What?". The diagnostician woke with a start and looked into the offender's eyes. Cameron. She was crouched down by his easy chair, eyes level with his. _It would be so easy to kiss her_. "What is it?", asked House, massaging his eyes with the heels of his palms.

"You were right. We biopsied a brain lesion. Acute promyelocytic leukaemia. The arsenic in his apartment was inadvertently keeping it at bay. We've put him back on it. He'll still need a bone marrow transplant, though. Chase is trying to track down the parents for a possible match". Cameron had not removed her hand from his arm. He could feel its warmth through the thin cotton of his shirt.

"Good". House got up and walked over to his desk, sitting on the edge. "Speaking of Chase, I've noticed that you've barely spoken to each other all week. I don't blame you – that antipodean twang is annoying, but it seems to have been affecting his work. When one third of your team isn't co-operating with another third, things get weird. Care to explain?".

The immunologist went to stand in front of House. She folded her arms across her chest. "I thought weird worked for you". House raised an eyebrow: she was quoting the words he had used when convincing her to come back to work following Vogler's departure, when she had made him take her on a date. Café Spoleto. She had worn a flowing black dress and her mother's earrings. He had given her a corsage and felt horribly out of place. "We had an argument", Cameron continued.

"About…?".

Cameron took a step closer. "Politics".

"Closet Donny T fan, is he?".

"Something like that". She stepped closer. "Chase complained that American politics wasn't _competitive_ enough. I argued that in those rare cases where the voter knows what she wants, excessive competition can be as harmful as it is pointless".

"Competition is at the root of democracy, Cameron".

"I think democracy is overrated. There's something to be said for a strong leader knowing what he wants and enforcing his policies no matter what. Much easier to keep the house in order that way". Cameron had walked right up to where House was sitting on the corner of his desk. She stood in such a way that the insides of his knees brushed against her hips. The diagnostician brutally suppressed the urge to grab her waist and pull her closer. His mind flashed back to the hallucination and their moment in the corridor. She would not conquer _him_. He knew that she was inviting his touch. He smiled inwardly, resolved not to give her the satisfaction. House rose from the desk and kept his hands locked at his side. He towered over her, close but not close enough. He looked into her eyes and could see signs of her heightened state. The body never lies. "Hey, Cameron?".

"Yes?".

House leaned forwards to whisper into her ear, careful not to brush against her with his stubble. "I was never much into politics". He pulled back: "I want your report on my desk first thing Monday. And smooth it over with Chase". House retrieved his leather jacket from the rack and helmet from under the desk before striding from the room. The door clanged shut behind him, leaving Cameron standing alone in the dim office.


	9. 10.30 p.m.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read. Much appreciated!

House dived into the pool and completed a couple of exploratory lengths of front crawl. He had loved swimming before his injury and had swam state in his youth – always tall, his long reach and powerful legs enabled him to glide through the water, and a languid style modelled after Mark Spitz drew early admirers in his college days. House had always regarded sport as something to be enjoyed rather than pursued, however, and he recognised early that medicine or physics would be his chosen field – the puzzles were too attractive to pass up, and he simply wasn't bothered about travelling around the country attending galas in out of the way places.

Still, the peacefulness afforded by swimming was something that he had missed post-infarction, and since being given a clean bill of health after the shooting he had wasted no time in reacquainting himself with the pool. Swimming had filled many empty hours in the late evenings when thoughts of Cameron would not dissipate, when confusion over the hallucination had rendered him sleepless and agitated. In fact, it had only been after a particularly vigorous swimming session that he had decided to ride to Wilson's and reveal to him the turmoil in his mind. Night swimming was the best. The pool tended to be near empty and those that did ply the lanes were, House presumed, after a similar solitude. He had never had cause to utter one word to his fellow swimmers, and even among those who came regularly, a nod or slight tilt of the head was enough. Better not to break the silence and disrupt what had become almost a solemn ritual.

Satisfied that he was fully warmed up, House adjusted his goggles and cap for a final time. He glanced up at the huge digital clock mounted by the window – 10.30 p.m. Fifty lengths and lots of thinking to be done. There was only a single item on the agenda.

* * *

Cameron shimmied into her running shorts and tied her hair back into a high ponytail. She retrieved her phone from the nightstand and fetched her shoes from their place by the door, tying them firmly. Following a few minutes of gentle stretching, she stepped onto the treadmill and selected her exercise music playlist. Satisfied that everything was in place she glanced at the clock on the wall. 10.30 p.m. Ten miles of running awaited, and she couldn't wait. The treadmill started and a feeling of peace swept through her body. This was her favourite thing – completely alone with only music and thoughts for company.

Cameron had often wondered, when thinking about House, how she would have handled a similar leg injury to the one suffered by the grumpy diagnostician. No doubt it would also have made her utterly miserable. She had seen enough in her medical career to appreciate how adaptable the human body was, and she was convinced that she too would have survived. But to be forced to give up running was unthinkable. She knew that House had abandoned many of his exercise routines, and empathy for his plight was probably why she was more forgiving of his idiosyncrasies early in her fellowship. But whereas before she had seen these peculiarities as merely something to be endured in a boss, now she regarded them as an integral part of the man whom she desired – not just to be endured but actually to be appreciated as an undeniable aspect of his individuality.

_One mile down_. Cameron thought back on the week. House had been as magnetic and infuriating as ever. This was exactly what she had been hoping for. One of the worst aspects of the frequent nightmares was not simply that they had forced her to experience afresh the traumatic event – though unpleasant, this was manageable – but that she had been unable to know if House had changed during his recovery, whether it had made him a different person. When possible, the immunologist had cornered Wilson, but the ER was far from oncology and opportunities for gathering progress reports were limited. Many times, Cameron had considered ringing House at home, but courage had always deserted her at the last moment, for fear of what he might say; for frustration at knowing what she _couldn't_ say:

_"Hi, Dr. House, I'm just calling to ask how you're feeling"._

_"I've been shot. I'm **great** "._

_"I just want you to know that I'm thinking of you"._

_"Of course you are. I nearly died - I bet I'm looking like a pretty attractive prospect for your next fix job"._

_"No, that's not what I meant"._

_"Yes, yes. You're an excessively kind individual. Just, for the love of Satan, don't pray for me"_.

She imagined telling him the truth: _I'm not thinking of you out of kindness, House. I'm thinking of you because I think of no one else_. Her feet thudded along with the whirring of the machine and the turning of her mind.

* * *

House was in his element scything through the water, breathing every third stroke, sneaking occasional glances at the clock. When he had first resumed swimming after the shooting it had taken him some time to rediscover the stroke pattern of his youth. But after several weeks of gradual improvement, he now felt confident that his healed leg was up to the strain. Naturally he had been advised to leave off strenuous activity, but this was the first time in many years that he had been able to throw himself into exercise and it was an opportunity he couldn't squander, not least because it enabled him to keep in shape. It made him feel strong, and it would be churlish to deny that part of him revelled in the recognition that Cameron still found him desirable. _Unless she really does only like you because you're broken_. House quietened the thought quickly.

The immunologist had displayed interest in him over the last week. He was out of practice, to be sure, but he thought he had detected the tell-tale signs of attraction in his office, where he had left her so abruptly. That had been unnecessary but incredibly satisfying. The way that Cameron had approached him slowly, eyes never looking away, had been hard to resist, but he was not ready to admit his feelings, not ready to relinquish control over the development of this situation. Cameron was hauntingly attractive, but then so were hookers a and b in his phone. There needed to be more to her, and he had to find it before making any kind of decision.

* * *

_Five miles down_. Cameron wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. She had realised during House's weeks off quite how much she had taken his presence for granted, how much she found comfort in his proximity. It was a strange discovery. Most people did all they could to avoid the diagnostician; she, along with Wilson and Cuddy, was the only one who sought him out. On the topic of seeking company, Chase had attempted, during the weeks away from Diagnostics, to engineer a meeting with the immunologist more than once but she had managed to avoid him. It wasn't that she disliked talking to him – though a touch self-centred he could be amusing company – only that she feared being asked to consider a relationship between them. This was impossible. Though she had regretted the circumstances at Café Spoleto, she had not been lying when she had told him that there was nothing. Chase was handsome in a conventional sort of way, and she knew that many of the nurses looked longingly at him. But Cameron yearned for unconventional.

House's mind was what she wanted to enter. Everything else, even his rugged handsomeness and blue eyes, was an added bonus. She wanted to be in his mind as he woke and as he went to sleep. She wanted to pop into his brain at unusual times, when he was exercising, or talking to Wilson, or eating a reuben sandwich, or drinking scotch alone at night. She knew that during a difficult case diagnoses consumed him, and yet even this she wanted to disrupt. She wanted to be forever on the edge of his thoughts, and she wanted to inhabit his dreams. She wanted to give _him_ sleepless nights and cause _him_ to look forlornly into a hot chocolate mug in the dead of night. Cameron didn't know if a woman had ever occupied House's thoughts to this extent, but it was something to aim for.

* * *

House was tiring. His stroke was becoming a little ragged and his breathing a little more desperate. But the lengths ticked over. _39, 40, 41_. If he was to try and find out more about Cameron then he would need to talk to others. Everybody lies, and if you wanted to find out about somebody that somebody was generally the last person you should ask. It had also not escaped his notice that the few times they had engaged in personal conversation, it hadn't ended well. Not only was she hard to figure out, but she had a disconcerting ability to see through him. The only time he had felt truly superior had been on their date and even that had been something of a hollow victory. He had hurt her and the realisation caused him pain. If he were one for self-psychology, he would suppose that this was the original sign of a buried desire. _No, you're not being honest. You liked her even before that. You asked her out to see monster trucks_.

But who to ask about Cameron? He had never seen her parents and didn't know if she had family. The only option was the other fellows. Cuddy perhaps, maybe Wilson. The latter two were easy – they already knew about the hallucination and House's interest and they would happily divulge the necessary information if they knew it. Trickier were Foreman and Chase. House knew that they were close to Cameron and spent time with her outside work. This was both an advantage and a disadvantage – it was good in that they would have useful information; bad in that any inquiries on House's part would arouse suspicion and could cause them to inform his target. It would be ideal if she remained ignorant of his interest for as long as possible – he didn't want her upsetting the dispassionate analysis he intended. The diagnostician needed to be clear-minded and as objective as possible.

_49, 50_. House reached the end of his set and, still half-submerged, rested his head on the edge of the pool, breathing heavily. While riding into work on his first day back he knew that he needed to understand if he truly _liked_ Cameron; not simply that he was attracted. But he needed more information, and the only way to get it was through gathering evidence. This involved questioning witnesses and careful observation of the woman herself both at work and, ideally, away from work too. He needed to conduct a thought experiment: could he see Cameron as more than a subordinate? If so, what could she be – companion? Lover? Girlfriend? Adrenaline flashed through his body at that. _Steady_. Yes, this was what he needed to do to. He had settled on a tentative diagnosis of deep attraction. Now it remained to test the hypothesis with closer study, the result of which would hopefully cure his affliction. With any luck Cameron would show herself to be utterly unsuitable and his feelings would fade, leaving him to get on with his life.

With any luck this would all be over soon.

Physical attraction is nothing.

_Everybody lies_.

House sighed and hauled himself from the pool, which was now deserted, its calm surface seemingly mocking the turmoil in his mind.

* * *

Cameron glanced down at the digital display and saw that she was in the home stretch. The pre-set programme increased the speed for a sprint finish. Nevertheless, her breathing was measured, in stark contrast to her thoughts, which kept flitting back to House and the argument concerning him in Café Spoleto. Chase had rung her earlier in the weekend apologising for his behaviour. She had sensed that there was more he wished to say, but she had ended the call before any confession could be made. The immunologist thought the best policy was simply to pretend that Chase regarded her as nothing more than a colleague and friend. If this policy was maintained long enough, any feelings he had for her would likely disappear and she wouldn't have to confront the matter at all.

But even if Chase was dealt with, she was no further in deciding how best to cope with her own feelings for House. It had been easy, when House was away, to theorise at her dining table in the night. But now he was back, as sexy as ever, and it was proving difficult to maintain her composure. Her attempt to initiate contact on Friday had backfired spectacularly – he had left her unfulfilled and dissatisfied, two emotions with which she was intimately familiar when it came to the Head of Diagnostics. But Allison Cameron was nothing if not determined. A career in medicine was a challenge anyway; more so for her. House had been right when he had perceived her reasons for pursuing this career. She was damaged, yes, but she was also relentless and had no intention of backing down as far as House was concerned. She had promised herself that she would play the game, and that was what she would do.

The treadmill beeped and gradually slowed. Cameron grabbed the rails on either side and took several shuddering breaths. Sweat dripped from her brow. The hard exercise had cleared her mind. It would be House or nothing.


	10. Covert operations

Over the course of the next several weeks the department was busier than it had ever been, and Cuddy was beginning to grumble that her Head of Diagnostics had intentionally taken on extra cases to avoid clinic duty. In truth, House was using the increased workload for a dual purpose. In the first instance, it enabled him to observe Cameron directly. He had seen her work in close quarters before, of course, and knew that she was an excellent doctor under pressure. Of the three fellows, Cameron was the most methodical and thorough. House could remember one case where he had displayed an x-ray of a patient's head and she had been the only one to notice the man's metal jaw which precluded an MRI. This case was etched in his memory because it was the day she returned to work following Vogler's removal. At another point, she had been the only one in a room full of medical students and his fellows to correctly diagnose muscle death in a hypothetical patient. Chase and Foreman were more likely to experience an epiphany but, if it came to it, House knew which of the three he'd trust to save his life. His subconscious had been relieved when hers was the first face he saw following the hallucination.

House had used the time over these days to watch Cameron the person rather than Cameron the doctor. Long experience had taught him that pressure tended to reveal a person's nature, and this was the first time that he had wished to observe the woman rather than the professional. He carefully noted how she carried herself when dealing with patients and colleagues, how she alternated between good humour and severity when it came to gathering information from stubborn individuals, and how she conveyed her opinions on treatments with tact one day and aggression the next. House also discovered, whenever he spotted her around the hospital or in the cafeteria, that she received a lot of male attention. In one week alone she had been approached by four different men in the lunch queue, and when he had sent her to carry out tests, he had found a note by a lab tech and a phone number. House had dutifully copied down the number, intending to sign it up to various extreme magazines. 'Gushing Grannies' was an absolute steal at ten bucks per issue. He had used Wilson's computer to do this research.

House's reconnaissance made him increasingly familiar with her mannerisms and peculiarities. He had never noticed before how her nose twitched slightly when she was provoked to emotion, or how she spun her pen between her fingers when she was concentrating. He became familiar with the subtle smell of the perfume she wore and the way she draped her white coat over her desk chair. Like him, she avoided pickles at lunch. Unlike him, she paid for food herself. In general, she ate alone with a book, though on occasion she was joined by Foreman and Chase. A quick peek had revealed that she favoured non-fiction, generally histories. House hated to admit it, but this was a huge factor in her favour. He rarely saw her on her phone.

Given that he no longer needed his cane, it had been easier to observe her – not only was he faster, but the sound of his stick squeaking on the hospital floors was hardly conducive to covert operations. Every now and then, though, Cameron caught him looking. During a differential he had been admiring her form from the corner of his eyes while Foreman spoke. He detected that she was stretching her arms above her head and couldn't resist stealing a glance. The red blouse that she wore under her white coat had ridden up, revealing a tantalising glimpse of taut pale skin. His gaze had travelled up involuntarily to the swell of her breasts and then her eyes. Cameron was looking straight at him, eyebrow raised. Rumbled. He had sent her off to the lab after that and mentally chastised himself for wondering the colour of her bra rather than thinking on the case.

But not only did the increased workload afford House the opportunity to watch Cameron in action, it also provided him with a pretext for the second part of the plan to gauge her suitability: direct questioning. Things came to a head following the conclusion of an especially tough case in which an investment banker was found to have contracted rabies. Foreman was already writing up the case for journal submission and the team was looking forward to a day of paperwork. They were all gathered around the conference table sipping coffee. "As you know", began House, "it's been pretty pedal to the metal these last few weeks. Contrary to what you may have heard, this has not been because I have wanted to avoid clinic duty – it's not my style to avoid work by doing more work".

"What _is_ your style, exactly?", inquired Chase.

"Windswept and interesting. I thought you knew that". Chase smirked. "No? OK, I'll come clean. I have been challenging you on purpose because it is time for your annual evaluations".

"Since when do we have annual evaluations?", asked Cameron. She was wearing the red blouse again. The top button was undone. _I swear she does this on purpose_.

"Think of it as a holdover from Vogler. He made me think about your work when I was forced to fire one of you-".

"You didn't fire anyone. I left voluntarily", interjected the immunologist.

"Whatever. My point is the whole sorry episode convinced me that occasional check-ups of one's employees is beneficial. To that end, I will be conducting interviews with each of you". House paused, preparing for the tricky part of his plan: selling it to the subordinates. "The aim is to gain a better understanding of how you function as a team. Therefore, the main topic of conversation will be your colleagues. I'll ask each of you to discuss one of your fellows, with the idea being that I'll have a pretty good understanding of you three by the end".

"You want to interrogate each of us over how we get along with the others?", asked Foreman.

"Precisely. I knew you'd get it, Foreman. I always thought you were the smartest chicken in the coop". House glanced around at his team, who looked less than impressed that they were being required to discuss each other with their boss. "Don't worry, everything is strictly secret: doctor patient confidentiality and all that. Chase. Shall we start with you? Ladies first et cetera. Rest of you can have the next little while off. Use it well". House got up and motioned for the intensivist to follow him into the office. He pulled the blinds across the glass partition. Chase sat down in the seat opposite the desk while his boss went to his computer, turning the monitor away so that its screen was hidden from the interviewee. "Right. Can I get you anything – water, coffee?".

Chase was a little shocked to be offered hospitality by House, but he wasn't prepared to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Uh, sure. Water would be good".

House nodded, before yelling: "CAMERON! HEY, CAMERON, GET YOUR STUNNING LITTLE ASS IN HERE!". Chase nearly jumped out of his seat.

Cameron poked her head through the door wearing a look of annoyance: " _What_?".

"Your colleague would like a glass of water".

"On second thoughts, I'm fine, thanks", muttered Chase hastily.

House shrugged and waved the brunette away; she didn't look happy. "OK. Let me just pull up my assessment form…". House pressed a few buttons and moved his mouse around. "Yes, yes. Here it is". He opened the folder containing his porn collection and muted the sound. "OK. Let's talk about your relationship with Cameron. I noticed a few weeks back that things were a bit dicey between you". House also noticed a slight flicker cross the other man's face at his mention of 'relationship'. "I trust that's sorted now?".

"Yes, it's all good. We just had a misunderstanding". House nodded, but Chase wasn't forthcoming. "May I remind you, Dr. Chase, that any and all information you share within these walls will remain entirely confidential".

"It was just a personal clash. It has nothing to do with work". Chase folded his arms.

"Ah, well, you see, _that_ is why I need to know the outline. The team is so small that any personality clashes need to be dealt with". House browsed through the clips on his screen: 'Penniless college girl and the landlord'. _Nope_. 'Pizza delivery chick has a special delivery'. _Maybe_.

"The _outline_ is that Cameron has been seeing someone I think is bad for her. I'm not saying anything more, House. Ask me something else". The diagnostician's gaze had darted to Chase upon this revelation of Cameron's apparent relationship with another person. He made a mental note. "Fine. Moving on….". House scrolled down and hit a few keys randomly: "how would you characterise Cameron herself?".

"I think she is an excellent doctor, a skilled immunologist and a valued member of the team".

"Uhuh, uhuh. But I already know this. I want your _personal_ insight. What do you think sets Cameron apart from other people?".

"Why are you asking me about what she's like personally?".

"I'm just progressing through the stipulated questions", answered House, his eyes fixed on the young woman on the screen who had struck an unfortunate deal with her cheerleading coach and was now in the process of undressing. Chase looked sceptical. "It's important that I know everything about my employees. Don't worry. I'll be asking the others about you, too".

The Australian sighed. "Fine. What was the question again?".

Over the course of the next thirty minutes, House learnt little that he didn't already know about his pretty subordinate. She was caring, considerate and (at least to Chase) aloof. He made a perfunctory note, thanked Chase, and asked him to send Foreman in with a parting warning: "it is vital for the integrity of hospital staff policy that this evaluation remain between us". The younger man only nodded.

Foreman entered and took the vacant seat. "Ah, Dr. Foreman, good afternoon. Let's see….". House pulled up another clip: 'Mom and the gasman'. "Right. Let's discuss, hmm-". House made a show of consulting the records on his screen which, unknown to Foreman, displayed no records at all, "-Cameron, I think. What do you know of the coolness between your fellow fellows, my fellow?".

Foreman narrowed his eyes. "What has Chase told you?".

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to divulge that information. As you know, I'm a stickler for the rules. But let's just say – between homies – that I've heard about a disagreement over certain romantic attachments. Can you add any further insight?". The 'gasman' on the screen had been joined inside 'Mom's' kitchen by the young widow next door. Because of the muted sound, House wasn't sure how this had happened.

"Why do you care about this?". The neurologist was on guard for two reasons. First, he didn't know how much, if anything, his colleague had told their boss, and was reluctant to betray the true cause of Cameron and Chase's spat without good reason. Second, the line of House's questioning seemed to indicate his own interest in the beautiful young doctor. Foreman was unsure if this was a good or bad development.

"I care about all my employees". House's eyes darted back to the screen.

"Your poker face sucks, House".

"Sorry. It's my computer. You have my undivided attention". House flicked off the porn and turned his full focus to the man opposite. "I just want to know what happened between two of my employees. I can't have dissension in the ranks."

Foreman considered this for a moment. "Sorry, it's not for me to say. You need to talk to Cameron".

House leaned back in the chair, hands clasped behind his head. After a thoughtful pause, he inclined his head towards the other. "You're loyal. I can respect that. Just tell me one thing: what do you think of Cameron?".

Foreman raised an eyebrow but replied truthfully. "I think she's too good for you, Dr. House". The nephrologist said nothing for a time, looking up at the ceiling. Beige paint, stained and cracked through repeated baseball bashing. Foreman remained seated but finally broke the silence. "Is my assessment over?".

House's gaze, which had been unfocused, swept back to his subordinate. Foreman got the absurd impression that his boss' eyes were seeing him for the first time, despite the fact that at least twenty minutes had passed since he had first entered the office. "Yes, it's over". Foreman nodded. House's demeanour had changed. The usually confident Head of Diagnostics was suddenly unsure; the usually ironic and mocking blue eyes suddenly serious and subdued. The neurologist felt that his boss was on the cusp of a significant decision. He could make a guess at what it concerned: the flirtation, the monster trucks, the date, the glances. Foreman had seen most of it, had even tried to warn House away when Cameron first revealed to her colleagues that she was interested in their boss. There was a good chance that it would end in tears.

"House?", asked Foreman from the door. The other looked up. "Just be careful, OK? Don't crush my friend".

House considered the words for a moment. He sighed. "I'm not going to crush Cameron. I'm… going to talk to her. Send her in, please".


	11. Head to head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is by far the longest chapter yet. I enjoyed writing it, so I make no apologies for the length!

House and Cameron sat on either side of the desk looking at each other. Both were hunting for a tell. They were also indulging a mutual attraction. House had thought about Cameron a lot since a stranger had attempted to murder him. The man himself had changed physically as a consequence – caneless, stronger, fitter; but he had also changed emotionally, in that previously buried feelings had risen to the surface and were beginning to make themselves heard against better judgement. Cameron's face was never far from his mind nowadays: drinking scotch on a Friday, riding a motorbike on a Saturday, eating pizza with Wilson on a Wednesday. It was rare that the nephrologist made it a whole day without thinking of her. And now here she was sitting before him, arms folded, hair tied back, mouth fixed in that half smile he found so alluring, white teeth visible. He inadvertently glanced at her necklace. It was silver and a strange design, but against the smooth paleness of her skin and the red of her blouse it shone. "That's an interesting necklace".

"I got it in Guatemala. It's meant to bring luck". Cameron wore the blouse and jewellery increasingly often. Chase had once drawn attention to the combination when they had treated a teenage boy for subacute sclerosing panencephalitis. _You don't forget that diagnosis in a hurry_. Cameron had been leaning over the patient while holding him in place for the lumbar puncture, and Chase directed the boy's gaze towards an eyeful in the hope that the sight would cheer him up. Instead he had promptly fallen into a seizure. She was glad that it wasn't having the same effect on House. Since finishing her run a few weeks back she had resolved to be slightly more forceful with her boss, more forward, to see how far she could go, and to judge House's reaction.

"And has it brought you any luck?".

Cameron tilted her head slightly. "Not yet. But I remain hopeful".

"Of course you do. Ever the optimist. Enough chat. Are you ready for your assessment, Dr. Cameron?".

"I am, but I'd prefer it if you didn't watch porn while we talk".

House replied in a beat, not bothering to question how she had found out about this. "Why? Does it make you uncomfortable?".

"No, I just don't like competing for your attention with orange, balloon-titted bimbos".

"You always have my attention, Cameron". The comment slipped out before he could think. House mentally berated himself for this lapse. _Weak_. The brunette's eyes widened slightly but she remained composed. House cleared his throat. This was his interview and he was in charge. "I have here a few questions I am officially mandated to ask".

"Well, who are we to flaunt hospital rules? Fire away". Cameron folded her arms across her chest, eyes sparkling with mischief.

House didn't appreciate it. "Might I remind you that this is a serious interview and will be placed in your file".

"I am serious, House. I take this job and you very seriously indeed". Cameron's stern voice was at odds with her relaxed demeanour. Foreman and Chase hadn't revealed to her the progress of their own 'assessments', but they had thrown a few glances her way upon re-entering the conference room. The immunologist was no Sherlock Holmes, but she suspected that she featured prominently in the conversations between her boss and colleagues.

Added to the fact that she had noticed House's wandering eye on her frequently of late. She suppressed a smirk as she thought back on the times he thought he was being stealthy: spying on her from the cafeteria entrance, checking the books in her bag. If anyone else had been doing this she would consider it creepy. But she was familiar enough with House to recognise that this was what he did if he was curious about something. Cameron considered his curiosity in her a point of pride. She had given him little clues, too – subtle perfume, a few lingering touches, the occasional extended arm stretch. House may be a genius, but he was still a man. If only he would be _her_ man.

"Who am I kidding. I lost your file ages ago". House winked before carrying on: "If you recall, we spoke recently about a certain frostiness between yourself and Chase. Any progress on that front?". House kept his tone conversational and his eyes fixed on the screen before him.

"Yes. Everything is resolved". Cameron wondered why she was being questioned about events several weeks in the past.

"Great. As I mentioned, everyone needs to be pulling in the same direction otherwise this thing doesn't work. Anyway, moving on...". What House really wanted to ask Cameron was her relationship status. Chase had mentioned that she was seeing a man of whom he didn't approve. If this was so, she had kept it well hidden. Nothing that House had spotted during his reconnaissance pointed to a secret dalliance but, short of actually following her home, there was no way to know for sure except by asking. "The hospital is moving to a new online system", House cringed internally but ploughed on with a breezy confidence, "and Human Resources has a few tick-box questions for all employees. We can just whizz through these...I'm assuming you still identify as White American? Yep, I can see you are as white as a ghost still. Religion: Atheist, OK. Relationship status?".

"Is that really on there?", Cameron asked.

"I'm afraid it is. The questionnaire is quite thorough". House tapped his foot on the floor.

"Then I'd have to say that I'm single. For now". The immunologist returned a cryptic smile.

House took the information in his stride, carrying on with his imaginary form. Chase had been lying. _Interesting_. "OK. Last one: sexual orientation...?". House glanced at the woman opposite, who scratched her nose with a finger.

"I'm still heterosexual, though have you seen that new blonde nurse in paediatrics, the Maria Sharapova lookalike?".

House snorted. "You too? Wilson bet me fifty bucks that he could get a date out of her by the end of the month. I'm pretty confident".

"Well, if Wilson wants a date, I'd suggest that he leaves his job and then only promise to return if she goes out with him. It worked for me". Cameron looked straight into House's eyes as she spoke.

"I wouldn't say our date 'worked', Cameron". House met her gaze. If this was how she wanted to play it, fine. As long as he got his answers. "I'd not been on a date since disco died, but I'm pretty sure they aren't supposed to go like ours did".

Cameron adjusted the glasses on the bridge of her nose. "What are you talking about – it barely breaks into my top five nightmare outings. Anyway, I disagree with your characterisation; I got what I wanted".

"Remind me what that was again, because all I remember is uncomfortable silence and a disturbing amount of Freud". This was not strictly true. House remembered a great deal of that evening. Images of Cameron in her long black dress continued to inhabit his dreams, just as did she in the red dress worn at the hospital poker evening. He remembered too the way her hair had tumbled down her shoulders in loose tresses. He remembered her scent, and the way that she had taken his breath away and caused his heart to leap in his chest. Naturally he had not shared any of this. _Get out of my head. Get out of my head. I'm happy alone_. House leaned back in his chair, attempting to quieten his mind.

Cameron leaned forwards, resting both elbows on the desk, as if countering his earlier movement away. "I got information".

"Really? Because from where I was sitting it looked like you were about to cry". The recollection caused a stab of guilt to flash through him, but he squashed it. This was no time for sentimentality.

"I won't deny that being picked apart in a restaurant was pretty unpleasant, but I brought it upon myself by attempting to engage you in that fashion. Lesson learned". Cameron was still leaning towards him, chin resting in cupped hands.

This position had caused the necklace to swing loose, and with it her blouse billowed out slightly. It took a supreme effort of willpower for House not to glance down her top. _I should get a damned medal for that_. "Excellent", he replied. "So, you've finally decided to give it up, eh? Move on to pastures new?".

"Not quite. All I can do is wait for you to come to the proper realisation on your own, in your own time".

House scoffed. "And what realisation is that, Dr. Cameron?".

Cameron got up from her chair and moved slowly around to House's side of the desk, trailing a fingernail on the polished wood as she went. "It's more of a twofold realisation, to be honest". Cameron touched her necklace. "The first concerns what you think you know about me; the second concerns what you think I know about you".

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, and if _you_ think being mysterious will make me like you more, you're a lot stupider than I thought you were". House's tone was harsh but a large part of him liked this version of Cameron: confident, witty. Seductive. Her relative youth was probably the most significant stumbling block in his own mind to a possible closeness between the two of them. For all his unorthodoxy and non-conformity, he possessed a personal code, and he didn't think it proper to be harbouring the feelings he did, let alone the fact that theirs was already an unequal professional relationship. Things were definitely complicated. But if it could be shown that the immunologist was a woman, independent and strong in her own right, then there _could_ be a possibility of something more. Complications could be simplified; problems could be solved. Instinctively he sat up straighter in his chair which had rolled slightly away from the desk.

Cameron noticed the subtle change in House's posture, the result (she surmised) of rapid invisible calculations, and her confidence grew. She was still in the middle of the desert, but there was hope in the distance. Heart hammering, she perched on the edge of House's desk in such a way that her butt almost rested on the keyboard and her legs were nestled between those of her still seated boss. Cameron yearned to reach out and touch his face but she didn't want to scare him off and risk rejection, so instead she held her position and looked down at him, speaking with a forced calmness: "I'm not being mysterious, Dr. House. I was just taught by a very wise man that the only way we learn is by thinking through and solving problems ourselves. If I told you the answer, I'd be depriving you of an opportunity to learn".

House blinked. She was quoting his words back at him. Only a few months ago he had invited, in Cuddy's name, a personal enemy to lecture at PPTH. Dick Weber. This man was peddling a fraudulent migraine cure and a disguised House had infiltrated the lecture and taken detailed notes with a view to a public challenge. Wilson had intercepted him, urging that he drop the vendetta. But the diagnostician had shut his friend up:

_"Shhh. I'm **trying** to learn_".

House had no idea that Cameron was even there. She must have been conducting her own covert operations. The woman was becoming more interesting by the second. He suppressed a smile. "You don't know what you're talking about. There's nothing that I can learn from you". House's voice was low, and his hands were still clasped behind his head. Nevertheless, he had not moved away from the contact, and he could feel the warmth of Cameron's legs beside his own.

"Oh, I don't doubt that you're a peerless doctor, far better than anything I could hope to be. But there are still a few things you can learn about me-".

"Like what?".

Cameron held up a hand. "I'm not telling you that – you'll come to realisation number one in your own time".

House rolled his eyes. "And what was the second realisation again? I forget".

"What you think I know about you", Cameron finished.

"That's easy. You think I can be fixed. You think I have a deep inner pain that can be healed with a bit of tender loving care. You think beneath this tough outer shell is a teddy bear just waiting to be set free".

"Wrong", replied Cameron. "I'm interested in you. I find you fascinating, infuriating, annoying". House opened his mouth to speak but again the brunette held up a hand. "But I also find you magnetic. Unique. You are flawed, but so am I. And because of this, I would never try to change who you are". Cameron increased the pressure on House's legs with her own, forcing them wider, and looked into his eyes. She couldn't decipher the emotion within them. "I would never try to change you, because I _know_ you. You don't need fixing; you need comprehending".

"You don't know anything about me". House's voice had lost its flippant tone and he rested his hands in his lap, millimetres from Cameron's thighs.

"I know some things". The immunologist moved her own hands down. She could feel the warmth from his body on her fingers, but she daren't touch him yet. "I know that you push people away because you've convinced yourself that you're happy alone; that you believe happiness itself is an overrated goal. I know that you are both the strongest man I've ever met", Cameron swallowed, "and the weakest; the bravest, and yet the most afraid".

House leapt up from his chair so quickly that it rolled backwards and collided with the bookcase, dislodging the Lupus textbook and sending it tumbling to the floor. The diagnostician loomed over his subordinate, who was still seated on the edge of the desk. House's sudden movement had surprised her, but she held fast and looked up at her boss with defiance, hands planted on the wood either side, its hard surface reassuringly solid. "You think I'm afraid, do you? Do I look afraid?". House's voice was a low rumble and his eyes bore into the other. The afternoon light was beginning to fade, and the office was quiet except for the breathing of its two occupants and the faint ring of a telephone elsewhere in the hospital.

"Yes", answered Cameron simply. "You've been watching me for weeks, following me around, looking at my books, sending me on assignments, hounding my male admirers. Not once have you come to me and asked me to answer your questions. Not once have you done what you really wanted to do".

"And what's that?", asked House. He could see himself reflected in the blackness of her pupils, could hear her shallow breaths over the thud of his own heart.

"You want to touch me, House. I've seen the way you look at me. You want to feel my lips on yours and my skin under your hands. Maybe you want to do more to me". Cameron inclined her head slightly towards the other. "I may not know much, but I do know that since you've come back you've changed somehow. The others haven't noticed it, but I have. You're stronger", Cameron tore her eyes from his and glanced down at his broad chest and arms, "surer of your place in this building, slower to frown. But you're also more…", she paused, searching for the right word in the blue of his eyes, "conflicted. You're at war with yourself, House. Something's happened, and perhaps I'll never discover what it is, but it has you scared. Scared to consider a future, scared to seek an answer to the question".

"What question?". House swallowed in a vain attempt to moisten his throat. All pretence was gone. She was so close to him.

"The question: would I let you touch me? Do I actually like you for you?". Cameron inched forwards on the edge of the desk. House filled her vision and his distinctive muskiness permeated the air between them.

"Technically that's two questions", House joked, but neither smiled.

"Two questions, yes, but one answer", Cameron returned. House opened his mouth to speak: _tell her of the hallucination. Tell her_! But the words would not come. Even now, after everything he had learned over the past weeks and here today, he was plagued with doubt. He couldn't risk it; it was too dangerous, and she was too fragile. He had been broken physically and now he was healing, but he couldn't chance breaking her.

Cameron sensed his indecision and offered that trademark half smile. "I'm not going to rush you, House. I've waited over a year and I'm willing to do the same again. You wouldn't believe how many men I've rejected over that time. When you are ready to ask, I will tell; when you have fully realised what and who I am, I will be there. Until that time, we carry on as normal – I make you coffee and answer your mail; you drink my coffee and bitch about my trusting nature. Normal life in Diagnostics. Well, normal except for one thing".

"And what's that?".

Cameron's voice emerged as a whisper, so intense was the emotion it carried: "I'm not afraid of you, House. I'm not afraid to touch you". Cameron rose from the desk and brought her hands, finally, up to his face, the coarse hairs scraping against her fingers. "I'm not afraid of the certainty I feel that, sooner or later, we will walk the path together. It likely won't be pretty, and it definitely won't be easy. But it will be us". Cameron lightly brushed her lips to House's, breathing him in deeply. With that, she walked from the office without looking back.

House stood still for a couple of minutes. He rubbed the place where Cameron had kissed him, lost in thought. At length, he turned around, picked up his Lupus textbook and placed it carefully back on the shelf. Then, for the first time in months, he smiled a genuine smile.

The assessment was over.


	12. Sabotage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No spoilers, but things will be heating up soon. As always, thanks for persevering. I'm having more fun with this story than I could have imagined.

House left the clinic and made his way to the nurse at the desk. "Dr. Gregory House, signing out at...", he checked his watch, "5.03".

"It's 4.48, Dr. House". The nurse didn't even both to look up from her papers.

"Well, _Glenda_ ", said House, glancing at the woman's name badge, "we'll just have to agree to disagree, won't we. But don't worry, it's a free country. No thought police here are going to cart you off to Room 101 for challenging a member of the Inner Party". House winked at the woman who looked thoroughly unimpressed. "Speaking of Big Brother, if you happen to see She of the Big Breasts, be a lamb and tell her I clocked off at 5.30?".

"But you've just signed out at 5.03".

"Damn, you're right". House gave the problem a moment's reflection. "Bah, she won't know the difference between those numbers, will she?". House leaned in conspiratorially: "between you and me, I heard a rumour that she became Dean of Medicine by using certain _assets_ more than others". Nurse Glenda rolled her eyes. She had heard it all before. House considered expanding on the theme, but he caught sight of Wilson talking to the new blonde nurse in paediatrics (about whom they had an ongoing bet) and thought it was too good an opportunity to miss. "Good chat, Brenda. I always enjoy our discussions". The diagnostician scooted off to find a more convenient vantage point, leaving the receptionist shaking her head.

House edged closer to Wilson, careful to approach from an angle over his right shoulder. The diagnostician sidled over to the large shrubbery near the pharmacy. He looked fondly at the rows of pills, a reminder of his past life. Refocusing on the task at hand, House crouched down next to the plant, straining to hear the conversation between his friend and the nurse. He felt a slight twinge in his leg but it vanished as soon as it came. The pharmacist, who had been filling out a prescription in the back office but had now returned, craned his neck over the partition and peered downwards. "Err, Dr. House? What are you doing?".

House replied without looking up. "Growing my own pot plant. Cops never think to look in hospitals; it's the perfect crime".

"Right", answered the pharmacist, turning back to his work.

But House had an idea. "Actually, perhaps you could help me with a medical problem I'm having".

"Oh?". The young man brightened, pleased to be consulted on a professional matter by the best doctor in the hospital. "Something to do with your leg, perhaps?".

"What? Oh, nothing like that. No, I'm wondering if you can tell me anything about Dr. Desperate and Nurse Goldilocks over there".

"Ah". House was in no position to see the look of crushing disappointment on the other's face. "I'm afraid I don't know anything of use, beyond the fact that I've noticed them talking a fair bit. But that's nothing special – lots of people talk to her".

"How much is 'a fair bit'?", House asked.

The man shrugged. "A few times a week? Hard to say with any exactitude since observing people is not, in fact, part of my job description".

"Too bad. Have you got any pills to boost hearing in there?".

"I'm afraid not. Now, if you don't mind, I have some more prescriptions to fill". But House had already moved on. With surprising agility, he leapt to his feet and bounded towards a young couple with a toddler in tow. The parents were engrossed in their phones and didn't notice the tall doctor sidle up behind them. They would be excellent cover. Unfortunately, however, their little boy had been observing House's antics for the past few minutes and was utterly delighted that he had come within talking distance. The boy raised a chubby finger: "you're a goof, mister!"

"Takes one to know one, loser. Now button it. Mister is on important business". The disturbance had caused the mother to turn around. "Are you the doctor we requested to look at little Henry?", she asked uncertainly in the broadest Texan accent he had ever heard. House could almost see her mind turning as she attempted to decide if the scruffy man before her was a doctor, a patient or a homeless person.

"No, sorry", House replied. "I'm here for medical attention myself. But I heard from the pharmacist over there that if we stand in this spot and remain perfectly quiet the doctor will see us imminently". The woman half laughed, unsure if he was joking. In the face of the diagnostician's impassive expression she turned to her husband for support, who merely shrugged and went back to his phone. House put his finger to his lips and was immediately copied by the beaming boy. "This guy's smart", House said, nodding at the child. "He'll go far. Now shush". He inclined his head towards Wilson and the nurse, straining to catch their conversation. The former had obviously just told a joke and the woman threw her head back and laughed heartily. _Ugh, Wilson was not **that** funny_. It was no use. Direct contact was necessary. House broke cover and ambled towards the pair.

"...and then he said: 'what, are you a _doctor_ or something?!'".

The woman laughed again. "Oh, James, that's a good one. You sure know how to tickle a girl pink".

"Well", Wilson began, "maybe after work one of these days we can go for a glass-".

"James? Is that you there, old pal? Wow, I've not seen you since...God, I don't even know when", House interrupted, drawing level with his targets.

Wilson, who had been taken completely by surprise, glared at his friend. "I saw you at lunchtime, House. I bought you a reuben and you used pickles to contaminate my Pepsi. Remember?". The oncologist folded his arms.

"Really? That doesn't sound like me". House turned to the blonde woman, still addressing his friend. "Why don't you introduce me to your companion here?".

"Mathilde, House; House, Mathilde", Wilson spoke through gritted teeth. The two named shook hands.

"Mathilde? What an unusual name!". House smiled at the woman. Wilson grimaced like he was in pain.

"I suppose it is", replied the woman, returning his smile. "My parents are Swedish".

"Oh, how nice. I hope you're not planning to introduce them to Wilson anytime soon...?".

Mathilde gave him a slightly confused look. Wilson leapt to the rescue. "No, no, nothing like that. I've just been helping nurse Eriksson settle in to life at Princeton. You of all people, House, know how hard _change_ can be".

"Yes, of course". House threw his friend an arch look, before continuing: "You know, Mathilde, you're very lucky".

"How so?".

"Well, Wilson is famous around these parts for the hospitality he extends to newcomers. Some say he has a gift. Either way, he fits in them quite nicely". Mathilde's smile faltered as she tried to decide if she had misheard.

"Sorry, I meant to say he ensures they all fit in nicely. Long day!". Unbeknown to the woman, Wilson jabbed his pen at House's leg. The diagnostician stifled a grunt and soldiered on regardless. "Yes, Wilson has lots of time for women such as yourself. As a matter of fact, now that I think about it, they're _all_ women aren't they, James?".

"No, I don't think they are actually, _Greg_. Now, I recall that Cuddy was asking for you, so I think you'd best be off". Wilson chuckled nervously at Eriksson, who was beginning to feel like she had ended up in the middle of something. House was undeterred: "no, no, I'm convinced that they're all females. Although, do you remember that one you thought was a lady but actually ended up...not to be?".

"Nope, I think you must be misremembering. All that Vicodin fogs his brain, you see", explained Wilson to Mathilde, who had begun to back away slowly.

"Now that you've got me on the topic, was that after or before you tried to convince those three women to chain you to the bed, slather you with ice cream and whip you with riding crops?", mused House, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"That is _not_ -", began the oncologist.

"Wow, is that the time? I really ought to be getting back to my station. Nice talking to you both. Nice to meet you, Dr. House", said Mathilde hurriedly.

"Talk again tomorrow?", asked Wilson hopefully.

"Err, I'll think about it. Bye". The nurse rushed off towards the big doors which led to the bowels of the hospital. The doctors stood side by side, admiring her butt as she half walked half jogged away from them. A couple of moments passed in silence. "You gonna give me the fifty now or...?", asked House conversationally. "I mean, we can double it up if you think you can salvage the situation by month end, but I'm not holding out much hope for you".

Wilson sighed but reached for his wallet and peeled off the bills. "I don't appreciate that act of sabotage, House. You've undone several weeks of serious spadework". He added wistfully: "I genuinely think I was in with a shot there".

House offered his friend a consolatory clap on the shoulder. "Believe it or not, Wilson, I'm inclined to agree with you for once. Tell you what, how about I make it up to you. Pizza and beer at my place? I've got some news on the female front myself. It happened the other day". Wilson glanced sharply at the taller man. "Cameron? What's happened? What have you done?".

"Relax, relax. It's good news. I think. Hard to say for sure. This is why I could use your input since you're, like, so _great_ with women".

"Oh, you. You always know what to say to a guy, don't you?", grunted Wilson good-naturedly. "Fine. But I am drinking _all_ your beer after that little stunt you pulled with Nurse Whatserface."

House held out his hand which the other shook. "It's a date". Both men walked towards the elevators, intending to pick up their things before leaving. "She was a complete babe though", said House.

"She really was", agreed the oncologist immediately, pressing the button.

Suddenly there was the sound of a throat clearing behind them. "Who was a complete babe?".

" _Satan_?", exclaimed House as he turned around. "Oh, it's just you, Dr. Cuddy. What a disappointment". Cuddy arched an eyebrow. "Though if you carry on looking at me like that", House continued, "I'd have to say that _you_ are the babe".

"House and I were just discussing the, ah, biological and medical qualities of nurse Eriksson in paediatrics. Turns out her parents are Swedish, did you know that?", offered Wilson.

"Uhuh. Big fan of Sweden are we, Wilson? I'm sure that's the only reason you were talking to her. Couldn't have anything to do with the long blonde hair, blue eyes, and gravity-defying rack", said Cuddy.

House chuckled. "You should listen to her, Wilson. She knows a thing or two about racks. The torture kind and the boob kind". The elevator doors opened and the diagnostician walked in. The oncologist, however, remained where he was, struck by a sudden idea which had been prompted by Cuddy's insight into his true reason for talking to Mathilde. _Well_ , he thought, _it was scarcely an insight – anyone with eyes could have made the same observation_. All the same, if House intended to divulge Cameron-related developments it might be useful to have a female perspective. Wilson was hardly an expert on matters of the heart; his three divorces testified to that. If nothing else, Cuddy could help share the load of advising their unusual friend. "You coming? Don't make me drag you in here by the hair", said House from inside the elevator.

"Hey, Cuddy, we were going to grab our things then head to House's for some pizza and beer. Would you fancy that?".

"Say what now? No way, man. Girls just ruin everything", House whined.

Cuddy looked at House then back to Wilson. She was about to decline but noticed something in the oncologist's eyes that she hadn't seen before: it seemed almost like he was pleading. Her interest was well and truly piqued. "Actually, that doesn't sound half bad. I've been meaning to finish a bit earlier since my triumph with the Board last month. Did I tell you about that?", she asked. Wilson shook his head.

House made a face. " _Fine_ , you can come. Just, whatever you do, don't ruin the guy vibe, sister".

Ten minutes later, the Dean of PPTH left the hospital flanked by her Heads of Oncology and Diagnostics. Pizza, beer and Cameron conversation awaited them.


	13. Friends

The three doctors were dispersed around House's living room munching pizza and making a serious dent in his alcohol supply. All three were on beer, though House himself was strongly considering a switch to whiskey; he'd picked up a bottle of Dalwhinnie recently and was working his way through it, though he was loathe to share it with his companions whom, he was sure, wouldn't know a Dalwhinnie from a Dalmatian. Still, the sight of his two best friends chatting and laughing together caused a surge of satisfaction, and he decided to be generous. House drained his beer and made his way over to the drinks cabinet. "Whiskey?", he asked the others.

Cuddy shook her head no. "I haven't drunk that stuff since college and I'm not at college anymore".

House recoiled. "First of all, it's not _stuff_ , OK, it's Winter's Gold Highland single malt scotch whiskey, crafted at the highest distillery in Scotland. Second of all, you would not have been drinking this in college but rather some local pig swill. Third of all, you say that you aren't at college anymore, yet you still dress like a sophomore". He paused, then winked. "I love it". The Dean only smiled sweetly before heading off to the bathroom.

Wilson gave the offer a moment's thought. "Sure". The oncologist didn't particularly like the drink, but he suspected that House was preparing himself for the next stage of the evening, and he wanted to show solidarity with his friend. The conversation so far had remained relaxed and trivial. Cuddy had explained how she had dazzled the Board with her presentation regarding the new procedures introduced after the shooting, while Wilson had given a blow by blow account of how he had approached nurse Eriksson and then, over the course of several weeks, nearly succeeded in asking her out despite stiff opposition from doctors in other departments. But it was Cuddy's inquiry as to why House had also not attempted to make a move that caused his ambling over to the drinks cabinet. She of course knew about House's hallucination, but she wasn't aware of the depth of feeling; hadn't seen the emotional conflict play out on his face almost daily.

"So", House said, returning with the drinks. He handed one to Wilson before settling into his armchair. Cuddy returned and sat back down too. Like Wilson, she had sensed that their host was about to speak, so they waited patiently, completely used to the man's considered way of talking. "As you both know", House flashed the oncologist a sharp look: he still hadn't quite forgiven him for revealing the hallucination to Cuddy, "I've been struggling with thoughts about Cameron. Since I've come back to work, I've essentially been doing two jobs. The first has been saving lives like only I can". House looked at Cuddy, "you're welcome". Cuddy doffed an imaginary cap in thanks. "The second has been a bit more personal in nature". The diagnostician took a sip of his drink. "I've been conducting surveillance operations on Cameron to find out what she's actually like, and whether I _like_ what she's like".

"Y'know, a normal person would just ask the individual straight, maybe share a conversation over coffee or something", said Cuddy.

"Huh, Cameron said the exact same thing. You women really are so obvious. No wonder guys are turning gay", replied House.

"So, Cameron found about your surveillance, did she?", asked Cuddy.

"Yep. Turns out she's much more alert than I suspected". House paused, before adding: smarter too".

"Why'd you say that?". Wilson this time.

"She, er…she posed me a riddle. I need to come to two realisations, she said. 'The first concerns what you think you know about me; the second concerns what you think I know about you'". House sank back into his chair, eyes on the ceiling as he recalled it.

"A riddle, no kidding. If I recall, you did the exact same thing when you confessed to me the hallucination last month", said the oncologist.

"I know. Weird, right?".

"Not really, actually", returned Wilson. The others looked at him in surprise. The oncologist leaned back into the sofa, cradling his drink as he thought how best to explain what was, at most, simply a feeling. Since Wilson had been informed of his friend's hallucination, he had thought back on the history of House and Cameron, and of his own interactions with her. Over the course of the last month, Wilson had come to believe that she was actually more alike House than previously thought. One area of similarity, he was convinced of this, was that she possessed an almost Housian ability to read people. "Well, she thinks like you, House", Wilson finished.

"What do you mean?", asked Cuddy.

"It's hard to explain exactly".

"Well, marshal the powers of your intellect and give it a crack, because I am _incredibly_ sceptical", said House, folding his arms.

"Fine, but shut your trap while I bounce ideas off my colleague here", retorted the other, motioning towards the woman sitting beside him.

"Ah!", exclaimed the nephrologist. "You're going to do a differential diagnosis. This should be completely hilarious. Go on then. Dazzle me, children".

Wilson looked at Cuddy, with whom he was sharing the sofa. "I think we'd both agree that House is a very clever man".

"'Very clever'? I'd have to lose a whole hemisphere of my brain to be just 'very clever'", snorted the man himself.

Wilson rounded on his friend. "If you don't button it, I'm going to ensure that every single reuben sandwich I buy you from now on is infused with essence of pickle. In addition, I will replace every single drop of your prized scotch whiskey with Jack Daniels".

"You wouldn't _dare_ ", whispered House uncertainly.

"Try me". Wilson set his jaw and stared at the other, who finally caved, holding up his hands in surrender. "Good. Now, as I was saying, House is pretty intelligent".

Cuddy, who had watched the brief exchange with amusement, nodded her assent. "Yes, I suppose I can agree with that assessment".

"Now, what makes House intelligent? For me, it's how he combines a mastery of completely orthodox knowledge with a strain of the unorthodox. Let me give you a recent example. Your patient, Richard, the paralysed man in a wheelchair. All he needed in the end was a cortisol injection – very simple and completely orthodox medicine. And yet, only House _would think_ to administer cortisol in this situation, when we all thought it was brain cancer. What we have here is our friend's genius insight", Wilson could see House gagging out of the corner of his eye, "combining with conventionality to arrive at a unique cure".

"OK, I'm following you so far", said Cuddy. "And", she continued, thinking back to the time when House had turned up at her house in the small hours sopping wet, "we can add to your picture the fact that House only had his eureka moment whilst standing in a fountain in the middle of the night. We know that he often gets his breakthroughs when doing something completely mundane like talking to you or watching TV – so this would be his streak of unorthodoxy exerting itself at opportune times".

"Wow, she just called you mundane-". House stopped when he saw Wilson's death glare.

Cuddy ignored the diagnostician. "But I still don't follow how this relates to Cameron".

"Well, it's quite simple. Of his three fellows, Cameron is by far the most methodical, the most thorough, the most _conventional_. Cameron spots the little things far more than Chase and Foreman. In short, she has House's eye, but without the genius; she has great command of the conventional, just like sport over there, but none of the special quality".

Cuddy thought it over. "I don't know enough about her work". She looked over at the diagnostician. "Is what Wilson saying true?". House rolled his eyes but nevertheless nodded in the affirmative. The others didn't know it, but he had observed similarly himself. "OK, so what you're saying is that Cameron is basically House-lite?". The Dean didn't sound convinced.

Wilson held up his hand. "No, we don't have enough information to reach that conclusion. All we can say at the moment is that there is a degree of similarity in how they practise medicine. Let's move on". The oncologist was warming to his theme. "Cameron's riddle implies that House needs to assess what he thinks he knows about Cameron. Well?", said Wilson, looking over at the other, "what _do_ you think of her?".

House had been listening to the conversation with increasing interest and, to be sure, a degree of unease. Wilson's insights had so far hit a little too close to home. He had half a mind to close up shop and eject the others from his apartment. But he didn't do this. Instead, and to his own surprise, he accepted his fate. He knew his friends were trying to help him think things through. It would be disingenuous to back out now. _And she would call you afraid. Maybe you are_. House sighed. "I suppose I see Cameron as excessively kind and fuzzy. I suppose I see her as a fragile girl rather than a woman. I guess my biggest worry is that I would break her beyond repair".

Cuddy this time. "I can't speak for how Cameron is with patients, but I do know that she is much stronger than you think". She finished her beer and placed the empty bottle on the table. "A pretty good indication is simply that she seems to like you". House hadn't revealed to them the conversation he'd had with Cameron, only the riddle she'd posed, so it was interesting that Cuddy had perceived the immunologist's feelings for him. "What do you mean by that?", he asked.

"You attract strong women, House". Cuddy said this matter-of-factly. "First there was me, in college; now one of only _three_ female Deans in America. Then there was Stacey, high-powered lawyer, and strong enough to assume responsibility for your leg surgery. Now there's Cameron. Do you know how hard it is for attractive young female doctors to be taken seriously enough to reach the pinnacle of their profession?". House thought back. He had a fair idea because he had said as much to Cameron early in her Fellowship. She had come to him questioning his reasons for hiring her:

_"You were a very good applicant. But not the best"._

_"I worked very hard to get where I am"._

_"But you didn't have to. People choose the paths that gain them the greatest rewards with the least amount of effort. That's a law of nature. You defied it. That's why I hired you. You could've married rich or become a model. You could've just shown up and people would've given you stuff. Lots of stuff. But you didn't. You worked your stunning little ass off. And here we are"_.

At the time, House had drawn from this the conclusion that she was damaged. She was damaged. But perhaps he should have acknowledged the possibility that, in order for her even to get to his door, she also had to be strong. Determined. An intriguing thought, but not enough. More evidence was needed. "So she worked hard to get where she is. Big deal". House was intentionally flippant.

"Hmm", said Wilson. "Now that you mention strength, Cuddy, she has changed a great deal since she's been under your tutelage, House. Remember that epidemic at the hospital that affected the new-borns? When Cameron was afraid simply to tell the truth to the parents of a baby that was likely to die? And yet now she willingly stands up for what she thinks is right – she refused to work with you on that reluctant cancer patient. What was his name?".

"Dr. Ezra Powell", House grunted.

"Right. But then she, er", Wilson glanced at Cuddy who, taking the hint, placed her hands over her ears and started humming, "took a skin sample from him without consent to facilitate treatment".

"She did more than that". House checked to see that the administrator was still humming. "She helped him commit suicide". After a moment's pause, he added: "I'd have done the same".

Wilson flinched at this but nevertheless continued his point. "And she was trusted enough by Foreman to be his medical proxy when he nearly died earlier this year. If I recall, she decided to go ahead with his treatment over your objections, and she turned out to be correct". The oncologist nudged Cuddy. "It's safe", he mouthed, before continuing: "I think we have enough evidence to say that Cameron is strong. She may even be the strongest member of your team". Once again, House reflected on his friend's words. There was another ingredient to add to the pot, but only he knew this – Cameron knowingly married a man dying of cancer; she fell in love with a damaged person knowing that she would have to live with the pain of his loss for the rest of her life. This was strength; willing to stare death in the face and continue living despite leaving a part of yourself behind. _And now she wants me. The king of damaged people_.

"But she's too kind, too innocent", objected House.

"Oh, stop it", snapped Cuddy. "Is she any kinder than Chase or Foreman? Is she any kinder than Wilson? You're using the fact that she's a woman as a pretext. If a woman is kind, men regard her as a soft touch; if she is forceful and determined, they call her shrill; if she shows emotion, they call her fragile. Cameron is a normal human being. The sooner you realise that the better off you'll be". House was taken aback by Cuddy's outburst, but Wilson could see that he was digesting her words. This was why he'd invited her: she offered a fresh perspective. No matter how disparaging House could be towards the administrator, she was one of the few people who could get through to him.

The room was silent for a time, each lost to their own thoughts. The diagnostician took a sip of whiskey. There was another aspect to his and Cameron's relationship which he hadn't thought about before now, and it was the simple fact that they seemed to reveal secrets to the other. To his knowledge, he was the only one who knew about the fact that she had married a dying man; she confessed this to him alone. For his part, she was the only one to know (bar Wilson, of course) his troubled relationship with his father. Was this collegiality in personal pain merely a coincidence? Cameron opened up only rarely; Chase's thwarted ambitions testified to this. Indeed, House's own investigations had revealed that Cameron didn't speak to many people at all. She often ate alone and with a book. If he didn't know any better, he'd say that she was as comfortable in her own company as he was in his.

Like him, she seemed to cultivate distance. There was Dr. Sebastian Charles, the self-proclaimed TB guru. He had wanted more from her, even asked her to come to Africa with him. Yet she had refused. House had asked why.

_"He practically lives in Africa. There's no future"._

_"Or there's too much of a future. You were attracted to him because he was dying for a cause. Now he's not dying."_

_"Riiight. It's that simple. I put a label on him and go from there"._

_"Everyone does it. We are who people think we are"_.

Maybe Cameron's sarcastic reply was warranted after all. House had labelled Cameron as fragile, timid, as too much of a risk. But his friends seemed to think otherwise, and everything he had learned so far suggested that he had been looking at the surface rather than at the person beneath. Cameron wasn't fragile, and she wasn't afraid. She appeared kind and caring, and she was; but it was the face she presented to the world, and it hid a more nuanced reality. And it was the prospect of uncovering the reality that caused his pulse to quicken: _Cameron is **interesting**_.

Wilson and Cuddy were both looking at him. "How's it going over there?", one of them asked.

House looked up as if he hadn't heard them. "I think", he stopped, as if in disbelief. "I think I've misread Cameron. I mean, there are still things to think through, but she just might be a puzzle worth unravelling".

The oncologist sat back and chuckled. "Maybe you're right".

"Of course I'm right. I've just admitted that I may have had Cameron wrong. I can't be wrong about being wrong". House replied.

"How'd you figure that?", asked Cuddy.

"Because that would mean I would have been wrong twice in one day. And that's impossible".

"So, what are you going to do?", she asked.

House looked over and winked, before taking up the TV remote. "I'm going to watch an episode of _General Hospital_. Good chat, pals. You can go now".

* * *

Cuddy and Wilson stopped by the taxi stand and prepared to say their farewells. "What do you think?", she asked.

Wilson glanced back in the direction of House's apartment. "I think this could go very well very quickly, or very bad very quickly. Either way, it's going to happen fast, because when House decides he wants something...", he trailed off.

Cuddy nodded in agreement. "There's something there, though, and it deserves a chance to develop, whatever it is".

"And if it comes crashing down? What if we are wrong to push this?", Wilson mused.

"We aren't pushing anything. We are simply helping House explain his feelings. It's up to them now. All we can do is be there if House needs us".

"And Cameron?".

Cuddy replied at once. "Cameron can look after herself".

"Hmm, I hope you're right. You want this one?", asked Wilson, motioning towards the vacant cab.

"You go ahead. I'm gonna walk to my mom's. It's not far and she's been bugging me to visit more often. I'm sure she'll appreciate a midnight meeting from her slightly tipsy favourite daughter". Wilson inclined his head and closed the car door, leaving Cuddy standing on the sidewalk. "I hope I'm right too", she whispered, before gathering her coat more tightly around her and setting off into the late summer's night.


	14. Conflict resolution

Cameron was in the lab testing bloods and thinking about House. It had been nearly a week since she had confronted him in the office during the so-called 'assessment'. She had gone home that night in high spirits, believing that a bridge had finally been crossed, convinced that she had not mistaken the signs of House's attraction. They had been so close – there was no way he'd condone such proximity unless he actually wanted her to be there; and he hadn't pushed her away when she had initiated a kiss. But then again, he didn't _actually_ kiss back. Maybe House was merely humouring her? Cameron hadn't known what to expect after that, but her boss had all but ignored her throughout the week. She had said she'd be willing to wait, and she was. But the prospect of another year of unrequited desire was enough to make even the most determined person depressed. The whole thing was utterly perplexing and infuriating. Another trademark House experience. To make matters worse, her car was in the shop and she had been getting a lift with Foreman in the mornings and running back in the evenings. She hated having her independence compromised even in this small way. Cameron sighed and switched out the plates, making a note on the pad beside the microscope.

"How's it going?". Eye to the equipment, she hadn't noticed House enter. He took up a position to her left, leaning against the counter.

"Fine", the immunologist replied shortly. Her reflections, and the fact that the tests were so far proving inconclusive, had done nothing for her mood.

House folded his arms. "Care to elaborate? It's hard for me to stimulate my brain when all I get is one-word answers from my employees".

"Well, if you want _stimulation_ , you'd be better served going to see employee Chase. He's been pretty chipper lately", replied Cameron, not looking up from the lens.

"Yeah. I think he's secured a date with Mathilde. Wilson will be crushed".

This answer did cause Cameron to look up. "Mathilde? You've been speaking to her?", she said with unexpected heat, before trying to cover herself. "I mean, it's none of my business, really. It's-". Cameron returned to the tests, though she could feel her cheeks flushing. _God, you're pathetic_.

House tilted his head to one side, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "Meh, she's not my type".

"Blonde hair and big tits not doing it for you?", she muttered while making a second note.

"The blonde hair I like", House admitted. She could see him looking at her out of the corner of her eye. "But she seems a bit ordinary, and I prefer complicated". _You and me both, brother_ , thought the immunologist. "Move over, I want to check your work", he said, back to business.

"I'm nearly done". Cameron didn't move except for switching in another plate.

"I said move over. You're probably missing something".

"And _I_ said that I'm nearly done". House's chat of another woman had thoroughly annoyed her, and she wasn't about to cede control of the medicine, the one thing she _could_ dictate, to her troublesome boss.

Suddenly House moved directly behind his subordinate and placed his hands on her waist. Cameron barely had time to register what was happening before she felt House lift her like she was nothing and deposit her to the side, notepad and all. He looked into the microscope while Cameron composed herself by straightening the slightly crumpled lab coat and taking a deep breath. Suddenly, on the spur of the moment, she balled her hand into a fist and punched him on his left upper arm. "Ouch. That was uncalled for, don't you think?". House remained peering into the lens.

"Uncalled for? I'll give _you_ uncalled for". Cameron felt her anger rise at his blasé attitude and a week of complete indifference. And now he had strolled in and forcibly removed her. She drew her arm back to strike again. Quick as a flash, the diagnostician turned and seized hold of her right hand with his left. "Don't", he said. Not to be deterred she swung with her left, and again House's right snaked out and gripped her by the wrist. They stood staring at each other, breathing heavily, arms fixed in the air either side. "Did you not hear what I said?", House growled.

"I heard. I just chose to ignore it. Like you've been ignoring me all week", Cameron retorted, her eyes belligerent.

"I haven't been ignoring you".

"Right. I get that what I said may have been hard for you to hear but you've barely said a word to me since last Friday". The immunologist could feel her boss' fingers tighten slightly. His hands were warmer than she anticipated and, if he cared to notice, he would be able to feel her pulse quicken.

"That doesn't mean I've been ignoring you". House shifted his grip slightly upwards so that both his hands now engulfed hers. Their gazes remained locked.

"It sure felt that way", Cameron replied, though her anger was fading away to be replaced by another emotion entirely.

"And how do you feel _now_ , Dr. Cameron?". House began walking forwards, forcing her to backpedal. In a matter of moments Cameron had her back to the wall, fingers still intertwined with those of her boss. She looked up into his eyes. Normally so blue, now impossibly black as they swallowed the dim light in the laboratory. She could make out the tiny creases in the bronzed skin of his face and his mouth, slightly opened, seemed to smile slightly.

"I feel", Cameron began, breathing in his scent, moving her fingers in his, filling her eyes with the solidity of his form, "intoxicated".

House's gaze flickered at this, and a low rumble escaped his throat. "Well, I hope you're not too drunk because I have a couple of questions to ask". Cameron only nodded, not trusting herself to speak. "Do you like me?", he asked.

The immunologist swallowed. "What do you think, Dr. House?".

"I think that I want you to answer the question". The diagnostician was done playing games.

"Yes, I like you".

"How much?".

"A lot", she answered immediately. House nodded, processing the information. "And now I have a question for you, boss". The other smirked but inclined his head in assent. "When I asked you last year if you liked me, you said no".

"I did".

"Were you lying?".

House didn't answer immediately, his eyes unfocused as he thought back on that day in the past; considering now his future. She had been so beautiful then and was still. Doubts lingered, but sometimes there was nothing for it but to trust yourself to the unknown. Life was too short – he had learned that the hard way. House brought his eyes back to the woman before him. "Everybody lies", he said.

"Were _you_ lying?", she persisted.

"Yes, I was".

"And…?". Cameron raised an eyebrow.

"And what?", House feigned ignorance, a smile playing on his lips.

"You know 'what', genius. I want to hear you say it".

House rolled his eyes, but his gaze quickly returned to her face. "I like you, Cameron".

Cameron decided not to push her luck and ask him 'how much?'. It was enough that he had confirmed his feelings. Instead, she pouted slightly and stepped away from the wall and towards her boss, leaving a sliver of space between them, though their hands were still locked together either side. There was so much she wanted to say to House: that she had dreamt of such an admission from him for over a year; that she was still tormented by nightmares of his shooting; that she thought of him as she fell asleep and as she woke up. All this could wait, however. "Now what do we do?", she whispered above the beating of her heart.

House brought their hands together against his chest, holding Cameron's fingers gently. "We have a tentative diagnosis of mutual attraction. Now it remains to test our theory". House looked into Cameron's eyes and saw lust. She would likely see the same thing in his. He had denied reality for too long. _This_ was his future. Both doctors leaned in. The pagers at their belts erupted simultaneously, causing both of them to jump in surprise. House swore and, keeping hold of Cameron's hands in one of his, used a free one to consult the device. "It's Chase and Foreman. She's still seizing". House spoke the words regretfully.

"Would you mind checking mine? My hands are tied, you see", said Cameron lightly. She was crestfallen that their moment had been ruined but it didn't escape her notice that House had not released her hands even in a moment of surprise. She was touched and wouldn't be the first one to break contact, pager or no. Instead she turned her hip to House and gestured to her own beeper. The diagnostician carefully unclipped it, allowing his fingers to dip slightly beneath the hem of her pants. Cameron gasped, but the contact was too fleeting to enjoy. House silenced the alarm. "We should go".

"Yes". The immunologist must have allowed uncertainty to flash across her face, because House added: "we'll pick this up later, after the case. My office". He brought her hands up to his lips and brushed them lightly. "Come on. We'll discuss theories on the way".

* * *

The three doctors were in the locker room, changing into their casuals. The day had been long but, ultimately, successful. The patient's family had offered them a free meal at their Turkish restaurant by way of thanks, and Foreman and Chase were planning on heading over. Cameron had other plans, though she did enjoy Turkish food. The immunologist had been thinking about House all day since he had confessed his feelings in the lab, and they had shared a few glances during treatment. Nevertheless, as the day wore on and the time to their office rendezvous drew closer, she could feel nerves building. Doubts crept in. House had admitted an attraction, yes, but she was the one who had pushed it and put him on the spot. And what if his feelings had cooled off now that he'd had time to digest the information? What if he saw her as a girl with a crush and a saviour complex?

"You coming?", asked Foreman, shrugging into his coat and closing the locker.

Cameron snapped out of her reverie and hung up her lab coat. "No, I've got some paperwork I want to get done while it's still fresh".

"Why? Take a break. We did good work today", said Chase while glancing in the mirror. He had been much friendlier to Cameron since Mathilde had accepted his invitation to a date.

"I'm hoping to write up the procedure for publication, if you must know, and I want it to be perfect", replied Cameron. This was actually true – the case was an excellent candidate for a journal she'd had her eye on for a while. She'd written in decent journals before, but she had a good feeling about the medicine in this one. With a bit of luck, the article would be her calling card and help with career progression, if she ever felt like moving on from PPTH. Whether or not she did leave would, she suspected, be influenced by what happened later today. She loved her job, but she wanted House in her future more, and if that wasn't possible, self-preservation might lead her to depart. But such gloomy thoughts were not necessary yet.

Foreman peered at Cameron, studying the face of his colleague. "Are you OK? You look a million miles away". An image of the immunologist in Café Spoleto suddenly flashed through his mind. She had been wearing a similar expression. _House_. Both of them were largely absent this morning. Cameron had been sent to the lab. As for their boss, Foreman had assumed he'd gone to talk to Cuddy or Wilson.

"I'm fine. Just thinking on a few things for the paper. You're not gonna steal this one too, are you?", she joked.

The neurologist raised an eyebrow at her forced lightness but remained silent. Still, he lingered over his shoelaces. "I'm fine", reiterated Cameron. "Go. Have fun. Eat kebabs".

"I do like kebabs", Foreman admitted, looking over to the door where Chase was waiting impatiently. "Well, if you need any help with the, ah, write-up, let us know". Cameron inclined her head in appreciation and waved the others goodbye. The door shut behind them, leaving her alone in the locker room. Cameron briefly considered applying a little makeup and perfume but decided against it. She didn't want to go into this with any expectations or preconceptions; and she definitely didn't want to play her hand too soon. Whatever happened she would tell the truth and be herself.

With a final glance in the mirror, Cameron slammed the locker shut and went to discover her fate.


	15. Not afraid

Cameron took the elevator to Diagnostics, passing doctors and patients in a blur. Feelings of nervous excitement turned in her stomach as she progressed down the corridor. All she hoped for could soon be coming to fruition. No doubt she would have to tread carefully and temper expectation. Cameron hadn't been lying when she had told House that any relationship between them would likely be tempestuous. But the alternative – of not being with him at all – was far worse. There was nothing sadder than being bored. She had loved her first husband dearly, but he had been completely conventional: handsome, kind, generous, not overly ambitious, professional. He had been exactly what she had needed at that stage in life. But she was ready for something – someone - more challenging. Life was too short to languish in mundane comfort. Cameron reached the glass door of the department. She could see House and Wilson smoking on the shared balcony, backs turned, sharing a measure of whiskey each. Taking a deep breath, she entered the office and made her way over to the two men.

Wilson turned first and smiled at Cameron, who returned the gesture. She couldn't bring herself to look at House, though she could sense him leaning on the railing, examining her keenly. The oncologist glanced briefly at the diagnostician before making his way back into the office and out of Diagnostics. "Good luck", he mouthed as he passed, touching her lightly on the shoulder. House and Cameron were alone, faint sirens and birdsong penetrating the rapidly darkening air. She walked over to the railing slowly. Though she couldn't make out the shocking blue of his eyes, she could detect his smile. This was enough. They stood side by side looking out onto the hospital grounds.

"I didn't know you smoked", began Cameron, sniffing the air. A cigar. _Of course_.

"I don't. It's a filthy habit. But every now and then even filthy habits deserve an airing". House took a drag and blew smoke towards the sky. He offered it to Cameron.

"Why not? I haven't smoked since college". She winced slightly, hoping that a reference to her relative youth wouldn't make things awkward, but House seemed not to notice. Instead he watched with amusement as his subordinate took a tentative drag and promptly started spluttering and coughing.

"Hmm", he said, "you need to really commit else it won't do anything for you. It's all in the lungs, you see".

Cameron recovered enough to hand back the cigar. "I'll take your word for it".

House took it with a wink, though he remained turned towards the woman at his side. "You did good work today. That was a tricky one. Sjögren's syndrome is pretty hard to detect". Cameron accepted the commendation with a smile. She had been the only person to notice that the patient hadn't cried when the team had mistakenly diagnosed her with LAM, a usually fatal disease. Together with her cracked lips, Sjögren's was the only explanation. "Well, what can I say except that I learnt from the best", she replied. House grunted in response.

Suddenly Cameron shivered. Though it was still late summer, she had left her sweater in the changing rooms, not anticipating standing outside in the Princeton gloom. "You're cold", observed House.

"No, I'm fine", replied Cameron. She didn't want to ruin this time they had together, just talking and looking out on the world.

"I don't believe you. Here." House extinguished the cigar and tossed it into Wilson's plant pot, before taking both her hands in his own and rubbing them vigorously. Combined with his gentle blowing, circulation quickly resumed. Cameron's eyes had never left House's face during his attentions, such that when he finally looked back up, he was taken aback by the intensity of her gaze. The diagnostician swallowed. "How's that?".

"Much better, thank you", Cameron whispered, "though, to be honest, I'm still a little chilly".

House's voice was suddenly thick. "Yeah?".

"I'm afraid so. I think I need a more direct warmth if I'm to survive the night".

"Hmm, well, if it's a matter of life and death, I'd be derelict in my duties as a doctor not to help". House still hadn't released her hands. He used them to pull Cameron closer, suddenly serious. "Is this what you want?", he asked, looking down into her green eyes.

"This is what I want. It's what I've wanted pretty much since I walked through your door". The immunologist tilted her face upwards as she spoke.

"It won't be easy. _I'm_ not easy".

"What makes you think I'm any easier than you are?". Cameron searched his face with the hint of a smile, aware of the double meaning.

"I'm serious, Cameron. Women and I, we have a fraught history. It's why I'm so close to Wilson: if he were female, we'd have broken up years ago". House wasn't backing down. He had to say his piece if there was any chance of moving forward.

"I know it. But I'm not like the others you've been with, House. I understand completely what I'm getting myself into. I accept that there's an excellent chance one of us will end up hurting the other. But I still want to try, if you'll let me".

House said nothing as he considered her words. "You're right", he answered finally, "you're unlike the others. I see that now. I think at last I know what you are".

"Oh?" Cameron's lips opened slightly, and her eyes were glazed.

"You're a strong, dynamic and completely weird woman".

Cameron's nose twitched. "Why thank you, kind sir".

"You're also a beautiful person". House brought Cameron's hands up to his face, "and I'm not afraid to touch you anymore".

"You look like you want to kiss me, House", Cameron whispered, revelling in the feel of her boss' stubble on her palms.

"I always want to kiss you, Cameron", he replied.

"Go on then. Ask me. Two questions. One answer". She could feel his hot breath, could see his blue eyes burning.

"Do you like me for me? Will you let me touch you?". House's voice was a husky murmur.

"Yes", Cameron replied instantly, just as their lips met with a mutual fervour brought on by months of denied feelings and missed opportunities. House brought a hand up to the nape of Cameron's neck and pushed her forcefully against the door leading back into the office, ensuring that he cushioned the impact with his hand laced through her sleek hair. With his other, he roamed her body, starting at her hip before moving to her back and then her butt.

Cameron whimpered and invaded his mouth with her tongue, tasting cigar smoke and whiskey. House responded immediately. Her left hand caressed his rough cheek, forcing his mouth to hers; but her right she ran down his arm, from shoulder to elbow, feeling the muscles ripple beneath her fingers as he flexed, manipulating her body to his desire. Then she swept to his abs and up his chest, creasing his shirt as she went, luxuriating in the hardness of the flesh under her exploratory hand. As she had imagined, he was in excellent shape. She shivered, but this time it wasn't the cold. Still, she yearned to touch him directly.

House seemed to read her mind, breaking the kiss with a gentle nibble of her lip. "Let's go inside. I don't know if Wilson has left, but we may be giving him an eyeful out here. Unless you're into that kind of thing?". Cameron gave him a playful shove and led the way back into the office. House went straight over to the door, locking it before pulling the blinds and dimming the lights. Cameron reached over to turn off the desk lamp too, but House stopped her as he was turning the lock. "No. Leave it on. I want to see you". Cameron said nothing. Instead she walked slowly towards the other, who was still standing by the door. The soft light from the lamp caught her hair as she moved, and her necklace twinkled. House was transfixed as he observed the woman approaching him: her chestnut brown hair glossy and tousled from his hand; green eyes unwaveringly meeting his blue; mouth slightly open as she took in shallow breaths. A moment later she was standing before him. "Beautiful", the word escaped his lips.

Cameron acknowledged his compliment with a dip of the head, suddenly bashful. But House immediately reached out and tilted her chin upwards. "Look at me, Cameron. You are beautiful".

The immunologist smiled. "You don't look too bad yourself", she whispered.

"Well, not many people know this, but I possess the secret to eternal life", House replied, moving a hand up to brush her brow with his thumb. The other remained loosely at her waist.

"Oh yeah?", murmured the other, leaning into his hand.

"Yep. Satanic worship. It does _wonders_ for the skin". Cameron threw her head back and laughed. _I could get used to that sound_ , he thought. "Now, where were we?". House's voice had taken on that low rumble she found so appealing. It reminded her, as if she'd ever forget, of the power that he had. It was the power of his mind that most attracted her, but she couldn't deny the allure of his physical strength. Already a tall man, regular exercise had made him broader. Yet he wore his increased bulk lightly, and, in spite of his age, moved with the loose ranginess of a lifelong athlete. There was no trace of a limp.

"Hmm. I think we were doing this", said Cameron, lightly brushing her lips to his.

"Yes, I remember now", replied House into her mouth. This time their kiss was slower, and their explorations more deliberate. One of his hands lost itself in the tresses of her hair, but the other moved to the hem of her blouse and edged underneath. Cameron gasped and responded by nibbling his lip with her teeth. House's hand moved slowly, the ripples in the red shirt indicators of his progress, as he edged up her body, brushing over the bra strap, though quickly noting that it unclasped at the back. _Time for that later_ , he thought. After having made a measured tour of the expanse of warm skin, his wandering hand returned to rest at her hip, though still under clothing.

Cameron, meanwhile, had needed no second invitation to carry out her own reconnaissance. She had noted how House seemed to luxuriate in his slow, measured ascent up her body and she resolved to do something similar. But whereas House had kept one of his hands entwined in her hair, the immunologist used both of hers to dip beneath his shirt. At this, House kissed along her jaw, and Cameron tilted her head back to give him easier access, his stubble leaving tiny red marks on the pale skin of her neck. Combined with his roving hands, it was a delicious sensation and another subtle reminder of the masculinity which he did so well to hide at work. Cameron moved each hand gradually upwards. Their closeness meant that she couldn't access his chest and she had no desire to step back even for a moment, so she contented herself with exploring his flanks and back, delighting in the way his muscles formed and flexed under her prying fingers. She traced her fingernails over his skin, which elicited a growl. _You like that, huh? Duly noted_.

Both remained like this for many minutes, kissing at times softly at other passionately, enjoying light contact but never going beyond this. This was neither the time nor the place, and House regarded Cameron as worth more than a cheap grope. That's what hookers were for, and even they weren't that cheap. He could be harsh, mean and sarcastic; but at heart (and to his acute embarrassment) he was something of a romantic. Even during their extorted 'date' he had offered Cameron a gift, insisted on opening doors for her and pouring her wine. Wilson had jokingly offered him condoms, but he would never have let it get that far on a first date. Though he believed that he excelled his own father in every way, and though they shared very little fondness, he had observed how his parents' marriage had lasted for nearly fifty years. At root, it was because each treated the other with love and respect, doing the small things right and letting the big things take care of themselves. It was far too early for House to think of loving Cameron, but at least he could treat her with respect. _Admirable intentions. But will it last, Gregory_? The diagnostician quietened his inner critic.

At length, they broke their kiss and moved over to the easy chair near the door. Cameron settled lightly in his lap, favouring his left side automatically, lest her weight cause his healed leg any trouble. She rested her head against his chest, listening to the slow beat of his heart and feeling his encircling arms as he played with the sensitive skin at her waist. She sighed contentedly and snuggled even closer. She had once come to House when he had been sitting in this very chair playing his Gameboy. He had unexpectedly opened up about his parents and it had taken all of her willpower not to crouch down next to him and touch his arm. He had looked so alone, and she'd wanted to comfort him. But it wasn't her place; not then, at least. But now? The possibilities for the future caused a surge of pleasure.

Cameron and House stayed like this for some time, completely at peace with each other, with their own thoughts, Cameron's head rising and falling with his measured breathing. Eventually, however, they could hear the janitor moving around outside, and the reality of their situation could be denied no longer. "What time is it?", House grunted into her hair.

"Hmm? I've no idea", she replied sleepily into his shirt.

House lay his head back against the rest, not wanting to move. "If we stay here completely still, there's a chance we may remain undetected by enemy forces".

Cameron scoffed. "I've seen your espionage skills. They blow".

" _Excuse me_?", House exclaimed. Quick as a flash, he turned over, dislodging Cameron from her comfy nook, and took hold of her hands. She squealed in surprise and made a playful attempt to liberate herself. "What did you say?", House asked with mock seriousness.

"I said. They. Blow", Cameron enunciated clearly and looked into his eyes.

"Repent, sinner, and thou shalt be saved", said the diagnostician in a thick Southern drawl, keeping her hands pinned above her head.

"Never". She wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue.

"Then you must be punished", House growled.

"I think that's only fair. What's it to be?".

"Forced conversion", replied House. Before Cameron could muster a sound, House crushed his lips against hers and entwined both his hands firmly in her hair, tilting her mouth towards his. The immunologist groaned at the sudden outburst of passion and willingly greeted his marauding tongue with her own. After what could only have been a few seconds, House withdrew, leaving the other breathless and panting.

With a grace belying his size, House jumped up and moved over to the desk where his jacket and helmet lay. "Is your car still in the shop?", he asked.

"Yes. I'm expecting it back sometime next week", replied Cameron, who was still recovering on the chair.

He tossed the helmet to her. "Come on", he said. "Grab your things from the locker room and I'll take you home. I've got a challenging case lined up for tomorrow and I need you well rested. Contrary to popular belief, you are not just a pretty face".

Cameron smirked and took up the helmet, taking care to rearrange her blouse and hair. As she readjusted herself, House switched off the lamp and unlocked the door. Diagnostician and immunologist walked in comfortable silence down the subdued corridors and out to the parking lot. It was just another evening shift at PPTH.

Except that it wasn't.


	16. House call

As soon as House dropped Cameron off last night, she had remained at the forefront of his brain. Only two hours of piano playing, in the dead of night, had quietened his mind and granted the respite of sleep. But her phantom had reappeared this morning, hair tousled, mouth slightly open, eyes ablaze, and he knew he needed a cure. Thinking at his breakfast table had provided some clarity. The answer was right in front of him. House was entirely unaccustomed to experiencing strong emotional attachments, so the best way forward would be to rationalise current reality according to things he did know. And the one thing he knew more than anything else was drugs. If he were able to reduce Cameron (and his feelings for her) to a mere scientific question of drug use and management then circumstances would automatically become much easier to manage, because he had been dealing with such things for a good part of his adult life.

Firstly, if years of regular substance use – Cuddy would say _ab_ use – had taught him anything it was that, sometimes, ignoring cravings does more harm than good; this craving needed to be satisfied. He would get his fix later in the morning and hopefully things would become easier as his body adjusted to its new situation. Secondly, however, if his condition was an overpowering desire for the beautiful brunette, and the medication was the woman herself, then the problem was in actual fact familiarly medicinal. It was simply a case of properly balancing chemicals, and a large part of any treatment plan was, first, the establishment of a routine; and, second, the adequate management of the underlying condition without excessive medication. House was enough of a realist to accept that his Vicodin use had spiralled out of control in the months before the shooting. This had made him angry, irritable and unstable. If things with Cameron were going to work, then they would need to lay out some ground rules to prevent metaphorical overdoses and emotional self-destruction.

House gave the plan a few minutes to percolate, allowing his mind to probe for flaws in logic or reasoning. For one thing, he knew that if Wilson were privy to this course of action, the oncologist would chastise him for attempting to reduce everything to reason in so clinical a manner. _Emotions are not equations to be balanced, House, and nor are they conditions to be treated_. To this, House could only reply: _they are to me_. This was the only way he knew how to be, how to think. He only hoped that Cameron would understand. The diagnostician had seriously misread her; but with a bit of luck, she had not misread _him_. Because if she had, then this situation would end as quickly as it started, and his addiction would have to be overcome cold turkey. The thought sent a shudder down House's spine. His last attempt to drop Vicodin had been extremely unpleasant; weaning off Cameron was nothing short of horrifying. But it may not come to that, if the immunologist was as perceptive and as strong a woman as he had come to believe.

Satisfied that he had met his own silent objections and counter-arguments, he made a phone call, gathered his bike gear and left the apartment.

* * *

Cameron awoke before the alarm and lay still, arms spread out either side looking up at the ceiling. She couldn't wipe the smile off her face as she thought over the events of the previous day. It had gone so well that it was nearly unbelievable, and she had to remind herself that it had actually happened. House liked her. The immunologist raised her hands in the air and stretched out her fingers. After their tryst in the office, House had given her a lift home. She had sat behind and rested her helmeted head against his back, feeling the vibrations course through him. She had laced her arms intentionally low around his abdomen, brushing his front, and been happy with the result. _The body never lies_.

On arrival, he gave her a chaste goodnight kiss from his bike, watching as she went inside. As soon as the door was closed, she had leant against it and beamed. If he had wanted to spend the night she would have agreed immediately, but it hadn't come up, and she was more than willing to play by the rules. All that mattered was that he liked her. Cameron chuckled and hit the alarm as it blared, moving into the bathroom. She had absolutely no idea how it would pan out at work but that was a problem they could work through together. She switched on the shower and stood under the steaming water.

After dressing and breakfasting, she sat on the couch to read whilst waiting for Foreman to arrive and take them to work. Cameron loved reading and kept a varied bookshelf. Equally at home with fiction and non-fiction, she was going through something of an ancient history phase stimulated, unsurprisingly, by her boss. During a case last year, House had discovered that a woman had been slowly poisoning her husband with gold, of all things. He had realised this because of his time in Egypt during boyhood, when he would hunt for antiquities in the sands and pretend he was an intrepid explorer. House had been so animated by the case that it had convinced her to see what the fuss was about.

Cameron had always liked history, but she'd tended to focus on the American continent. Recently, however, she had dabbled in Egypt, and was now working her way through a book on the Roman empire. Delving into long dead civilisations was an excellent way of keeping things in perspective, she thought. No matter the current state of American healthcare, there was something humbling in the knowledge that humans had never been better served by medicine than they were right now. It was an added bonus that these types of books commanded her full attention and thus prevented her mind from wandering to House.

There was a knock on the door. Cameron noted her place ('Emperor Nero: evil or just misunderstood?'), slotted in her bookmark and walked over to open it, turning around to pick up her bag from the little table nearby as she did so. "Hi, Foreman, be with you in a second-".

Suddenly she felt arms around her waist, and she shrieked in surprise. "What if I can't wait a second, Cameron?", whispered House into her ear, pressing his body against her back.

"House…you frightened me", she breathed.

"Well, it wouldn't be a very good surprise if you were expecting it now, would it? But if you want, I can go back outside and we can try this again", replied House, burying his face in her hair and kissing lightly along the nape of her neck.

"No, no", answered the immunologist, leaning back into her boss, who closed the door with his foot, "this is, ahh, absolutely fine".

"Good, because you smell amazing". One of House's hands moved from her waist up to her breasts, though still over her clothes, "and you feel even better". Cameron exhaled sharply; she hadn't been expecting a House call. In fact, she had resolved while lying in bed last night to take it a day at a time, not quite knowing what a relationship with House would look like, if even they were in a relationship. That was what she wanted more than anything, but having waited so long to make a breakthrough, the young doctor was content to let him ease into things and decide for himself what part she could play in his life. She turned her head to the side and searched for House's lips with her own whilst bringing up a hand to caress his cheek. It was smooth. "You shaved".

House's lips trailed along her jaw to her mouth. "I did. Not a fan?".

"I think", Cameron whispered between frenzied kisses, "that you look sexy in stubble".

"Duly noted, madame", replied the diagnostician in a heavy French accent. Suddenly he span Cameron around so that they were face to face. For a couple of seconds, they stood still. Even in this brief interlude, the immunologist noticed that House's blue eyes had momentarily lost their mischief and guile. In their place was an emotion she had not yet witnessed in House but hoped to see again. Hunger. That was the only way she could describe it. The intensity of his gaze was almost frightening, such was the force it radiated. Cameron scarcely had the time to process this observation before her legs propelled her of their own accord into his arms.

House held Cameron tightly by the waist and kissed her deeply with a passion that no longer surprised him, their tongues jostling for position. His hands roamed across her face, through her hair, before settling on the small of her back; Cameron's soft sighs of satisfaction mirroring his own feelings as both doctors indulged their desires in the body of the other. Despite this only being their second romantic encounter, and though what they had done so far could only be described as heavy petting, both were already gleaning erotic information. Cameron was beginning to recognise that House favoured particular areas: her neck, her hair, her butt; House for his part detected how she lingered on his upper arms and shoulders and seemed to take great delight in feeling the taut flesh under her fingers. There remained much more to discover, but for now these simple explorations were enough, as each became more familiar with the other.

At length, Cameron pulled away a little, struck by a sudden thought. House noticed the movement but continued nibbling her neck. "Hey, where's Foreman?", she sighed contentedly.

"You were thinking about him too? That's so cool – so was I", House mumbled against her skin.

The immunologist ran her fingers through his hair as she thought. "You know he's been driving me to work since last week, right?".

"Of course I know. I have an IQ which surpasses the measurements in most conventional tests; I was offered funding for a doctorate in particle physics at MIT and Cambridge; I know the dialogue to all the episodes of _General Hospital_. I think I'd notice that you and he were coming in together. Unless…". House stepped back, suddenly serious.

"Unless…?", Cameron echoed.

"Unless it's all a cunning ruse to make me jealous and get into my pants. Hmm. Elementary, my dear Cameron". House brought his finger to his lip as if in deep thought.

The immunologist smirked, placed both hands on his chest, and leaned closer to whisper in his ear. "Caught me red-handed, House. I think of nothing else". House swallowed, his mouth dry, as her hot breath tickled his skin. _Remember what you're here to do, Gregory_. House cleared his throat: "I sent Foreman on an errand".

"What errand?", she asked, curious, though fully aware of her effect on the diagnostician.

"Guy stuff. You wouldn't understand. Anyway, it afforded me the opportunity to see you before work…", House kissed her nose reassuringly, "…and to talk to you. About us".

"There's an _us_?". Cameron's heart leapt in her chest as she allowed House to lead her to the couch.

"Erm, well, look, I think it's, y'know, something that I, I mean obviously if you want; there are one or two things, several things, actually, that deserve consideration before we get anywhere close to that, er, situation". Cameron had never seen House lost for words, and it was completely adorable. She had been expecting House to lay out some rules of engagement fairly early on; she knew that he was a man who liked to reduce circumstance to reason, to think things through, to be in control. It was one of the features of his personality she so admired because it was something she valued in herself. She was more than happy to take things at his pace. _But he doesn't need to know that_ , Cameron thought to herself, stifling a wicked grin. House liked to play games. Now it was her turn. She pretended to be panicked by his reaction. "So you're saying that there is no us?".

House was taken aback. "Well, all I'm saying is-".

"Did you not _listen_ to my confession in your office two weeks ago? And again yesterday?", Cameron allowed her voice to rise and she folded her arms, creating distance on the couch.

"Of course I listened. I fully understand-".

Again, Cameron interrupted him. "Oh, you _understand_ , do you? You think I'm just an equation to be understood? Is that all I am to you?".

House was dumbfounded at this reaction. "No, that's not what I meant, I-".

"So let me get this straight. I pour my heart out to you, tell you how much I like you, stand there practically begging you to give me a chance, and this is all you can manage?". Cameron's voice had grown weirdly shrill, and it hurt even her ears, but House's reaction was priceless. His face was a picture of complete befuddlement as he attempted to process the last few minutes. He had not expected Cameron to be so emotionally volatile, like a child. So many hours spent thinking it through, talking with Wilson and Cuddy, agreeing that Cameron was strong, independent and nuanced. House had revised his initial assessment of the immunologist being immature and idealistic. But perhaps the shooting and resultant feelings had so clouded his mind that he had been seeing what he wanted to see – perhaps his first impression had been correct all along – she _was_ unsuitable.

Cameron observed the torture playing out on House's face and thought that it was time to end the game before it got out of hand. It had been fun initially but she didn't want to freak him out excessively – that could come further down the line. She moved closer on the couch and placed her hands over his. "House". The man didn't look up. "House", she repeated, tilting his chin up. He looked thoroughly glum and the immunologist felt guilty. Time to put it right. "Remember when I brought candy canes into the office and you said: 'Candy _canes_? Are you _mocking_ me?' and then I stumbled and stammered and then you said 'relax. It was a joke'?".

House finally looked into her eyes and saw mischief. Comprehension dawned. "You were joking? That's not the real you?".

"I was joking. That's not the real me. I just thought it would be funny to weird you out. I'm sorry". She brought his hands to her lips and kissed them.

House said nothing for a moment as he processed the information. Then all of a sudden, a smile spread and his features lit up – he _hadn't_ got Cameron wrong after all; and she was a joker to boot. He pulled Cameron across the leather and into his lap. "You don't have to apologise for pulling pranks. It's an admirable quality and I'll admit that you got me - I lost to the better man this day".

Cameron raised an eyebrow in mock offence. "I'm not a man, House".

House ran his hands over her legs, allowing his thumbs to dip dangerously along her inner thighs, before dragging them up over her hips brushing the sides of her breasts as he went, before finishing at her cheeks. Cameron's heart beat faster. "You're right", he finished. "You are not a man. Far too... _delicious_ to be a man". He brought his lips close to hers. "But if this is how you want to play it, joking around, dishing it out, then you must be prepared to...". House paused, before finishing in a throaty whisper, "repel boarders". His lips engulfed hers and she sank back into the corner of the couch with a soft moan, running her hands through his hair.

Eventually they broke apart and House got up, helping Cameron to her feet. "Let's go. Time for us to be doctors". They walked towards the door.

"Sure, but didn't you want to speak to me about something. About us?". Cameron was still expecting to be read the rules of engagement.

"I did. I do. But it can wait 'til after work", he answered.

Cameron nodded, accepting the proffered helmet and locking the door behind them. The couple walked along the hallway and out onto the street. The sun shone and birds sung, but neither noticed, consumed as they were by thoughts of the other.


	17. Brainstorming

House parked up and helped Cameron dismount. When she removed the helmet, her hair cascaded around her shoulders and she had to whip it out of her eyes. The diagnostician was rendered momentarily speechless as he observed her while removing his gloves and sunglasses. Cameron's weight on his bike had grown a little more familiar, as had the feel of her lips, but one thing that still gave him pause and quickened his pulse was her hair: the way she manipulated it, the way it shone and flowed like water. It enchanted him. House suspected that the ancient Greeks were on to something when they conceived of Medusa, a woman whose hair and eyes literally turned unsuspecting men to stone. An apt myth, he thought, as he stood rooted to the spot, gloves halfway into his leather jacket. "Are we going in, or are you gonna stare at me all day?", asked Cameron, winking in his direction.

"I, er,", House mumbled. _For God's sake, pull it together. You aren't a teenager anymore_. He cleared his throat. "Yes. In. Work". Cameron said nothing, instead arching an eyebrow in amusement and setting off for the hospital entrance without him.

House caught up with her as they walked into the lobby. "I think it's best if we keep our little...situation under wraps for now. We don't want the other employees hankering after the same perks. I've seen the way Chase looks at me, and I don't fancy indulging his fantasies".

They walked to the elevators. "Yes, that's fine", agreed Cameron. It would be a lot simpler if Foreman and Chase were kept in the dark for as long as possible. Not only because she suspected the latter still had feelings for her, but also because she herself had still to wrap her head around her and House. _Her and House_. She smiled at the thought as they took the elevator up to Diagnostics. "What about _my_ fantasies?", she asked conversationally.

"What about them?".

"Would you consider indulging _them_?". Cameron glanced at the man beside her.

House rubbed his chin, thinking it over. "I could be persuaded", he answered, stopping in the hallway and turning to face her. "But I'd need to know what they were before I could come to any kind of definitive judgement".

Cameron gave a devilish grin. "Aha, I'm not going to make it easy for you, Dr. House. It's something for you to think about".

House rolled his eyes. "Ugh. Why are women always so mysterious?". Cameron laughed as they resumed their walk. "You go on ahead and tell the others to get cracking", he added after a short distance. "I've left copies of the case file for you to mull over. Come up with some deep and meaningful theories for me to shoot down in a flash".

Cameron nodded. "And where are you going?".

House shook his head in mock bewilderment. "For one thing, it would look pretty suspicious if we both came in together, wouldn't it? I know our friends aren't the sharpest tools in the shed but give them a little credit. For another thing, it's 9 a.m. Far too early for me to be working. I need to let this baby...", House pointed to his head, "...warm up first. Now, off you go. I expect to be _dazzled_ ". Cameron sighed but went off without further comment.

House watched her troop away down the corridor, admiring her figure from afar. As soon as she was out of sight, he doubled back and took the stairs to the ground floor, walking around a side of the hospital he hadn't seen for a while. A few of the doctors gave him a surprised look, but House had no time even for a sarcastic comment. After a few minutes' walking, he took the stairs to his floor, approaching Wilson's office from the opposite direction, and entered without knocking. "I need your help-", he began.

Wilson was going over an x-ray with a youngish-looking man, and started in surprise at the disturbance. "I'm with a patient, House. You'll have to wait".

House sighed and walked over to examine the readout himself. "Well, it isn't cancer", he remarked after a moment's study, "but your lungs look like a whack-a-mole board. How many are you smoking daily?".

"Er, 20 or so?", the man looked uncertain, and glanced towards Wilson who shrugged.

House leaned in and sniffed. "Stogies? Come on, man, you're better than that. If you're going to kill yourself, at least do it in style".

"I'm dying?", he asked, panicked.

House looked at him like he was an idiot, but spoke to Wilson. "Natural selection dictates that we let this man die for being a moron". House once more addressed the patient. "Smoking is _bad_ for you, OK? Don't do it. If you quit today, there's a chance you'll live to see 60. If not, Mrs Smoker and Smoker junior will be crying at your funeral".

"I'm not married", said the man, still in shock.

"Not surprising. You look like the back end of a bus", House remarked, steering the man towards the door and opening it; "smell like one, too. Good day, sir". The diagnostician pushed him out into the corridor and shut the door.

Wilson folded his arms in annoyance. "You can't just barge in here and hijack my consultations, House. That man was in obvious distress".

House went over to sit on his friend's couch. "So am I. and I think that your best friend of many years, your light in the darkness, is more important than some random urchin off the street".

"And what are you doing in so early, anyway?". Wilson's eyes narrowed.

"You know me, Wilson, a real morning bird. It's the best time of day, really. It has the sunrise and everything". House leant back and stretched his arms, observing the oncologist's disbelieving face. "No? Not buying it? Fair enough, but just so I know, where did I lose you? Was it the sunrise bit?".

Wilson said nothing and walked over to the desk to check his email. House sighed. "I've told you before: strong and silent really doesn't suit you".

"Believe it or not, House, but I do actually have work to do. So, if you'd like to cut to the chase, I can give you some advice, you'll ignore it, and we can move on with our lives".

House looked at Wilson, whose eyes had remained fixed on the screen, and smirked. "Fair dinkum. I came in with Cameron this morning".

Wilson's eyes darted to those of his friend's. "This morning? It went well last night, did it? Did you...y'know". The oncologist made a graphic gesture.

House pulled a face. "It did go well, and no, we didn't".

"Really?". Wilson was surprised. "I just assumed, since you both liked each other, that you would".

"Yeah, well. I think it's _because_ I like her that I'm holding off", answered House as he gazed at the ceiling.

"I don't follow".

House sighed. "I want to do this properly, get to know her, go on a date or two, and _then_ see what happens".

"Huh", remarked Wilson, leaning back in his chair. "That's actually a really sensible idea".

"I know, right? I'm pretty proud of myself".

"So what do you need me for? Sounds like you've got it all worked out".

"Well, I was tossing and turning last night trying to think of date ideas. And then it struck me that my best pal, good old James Wilson, he of the three wives, would be the perfect person to ask. You're practically an expert in the wooing of women. Mathilde aside, of course".

Wilson inclined his head in acknowledgement. "I appreciate the thought, House, but I'm not sure I'm the best person to ask, given that all my relationships so far have crashed and burned".

"Yep, but we can put that down to your horrible desire to please and accommodate, rather than through any failings in the dating phase".

"Too kind, too kind", Wilson remarked drily. House threw him a salute from the couch. Wilson sighed and glanced at his watch in exasperation. "Fine! Since you cut short my last appointment, I have a bit of spare time. What have you come up with so far?".

* * *

"Yes. Yes. No. I've told Dr. Williams that such insinuations are entirely inappropriate. Yes, I know. Yep. OK. Thanks for that, Guy". Cuddy sighed, made a cursory note, and returned the phone to its cradle. She woke up her computer and tabbed over to her diary, checking off another item before consulting the next. Suddenly her office door burst open and her Head of Diagnostics walked in. At least, she assumed it was him. She'd not looked up, but only one individual in this building would have the temerity to waltz into the Dean's office uninvited. "What is it, House?", she asked, head down, scribbling.

"You know what I like about you, Cuddles?", exclaimed the other, settling into her easy chair against the wall: "your refreshingly simple attitude. Straight to business, no nonsense. I bet guys don't even have to buy you dinner, do they?".

"Are you offering?".

"Alas, no. It's hard enough for me to mooch off Wilson as it is. I doubt he'd be willing to subsidise your food as well". House took up a cushion and started tapping a rhythm.

"Too bad. This new diet is killing me", Cuddy remarked whilst glancing at her computer.

"You don't need a diet. Your breasts and ass look great just the way they are".

Cuddy laughed shortly. "Thanks, House. I think".

House winked at her. "I got your back, sister. Don't let the man wear you down". The diagnostician replaced the cushion and leaned forwards. "Speaking of men and women, I'd like your advice".

"Oh?", she remarked, head buried in papers.

"Cameron and I kissed last night". House didn't add: _and again this morning_.

This did cause Cuddy to look up sharply. House smiled faintly: her reaction was almost exactly the same as Wilson's. "You kissed?", she repeated.

"Yes, ma'am; that we did".

"And did you-", the Dean began.

"No. Jeez, you and Wilson are exactly the same. I'm amazed you two haven't shacked up yet".

Cuddy nodded in approval, finally giving her employee full focus. "You're taking it slow. Very smart. Best to ease into things".

"OK, are you _sure_ you aren't psychically engaged with Wilson? He said pretty much the same thing", observed House, getting up to look out of Cuddy's window.

Cuddy shrugged. "We both know you, House".

"Well, if that's true, you'll also know that I need help with planning a date. I'm not very good at the seduction phase – I much prefer the 'under the sheets' phase".

Cuddy turned in her chair to speak to the other, who was still facing away from her by the window. "Hmm. I think you're a little better at the seduction phase than you realise". The man himself glanced around. "Is that so?", he asked.

"How can I put this? Women don't go out with you for your, ah, caring and loving nature, House. And while you're attractive in an unconventional sort of way, there are more handsome men out there", Cuddy began, briefly thinking back to their time together in college.

He scoffed. "I'm glad I refused to buy you dinner now".

Cuddy walked over to stand next to her friend and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Just be yourself. Cameron knows you, understands your idiosyncrasies, your brashness. Don't be afraid of uncertainty. Embrace it". House glanced at her, reminded of Cameron's words in his office, and nodded slowly. "That's all well and good", he said, "but I'd still like some date inspiration".

"Alright then. What have you got so far?", she queried. House told her.

Cuddy raised her eyebrows, but as she thought it through a smile emerged. "Not a bad idea. I know _I'd_ enjoy that. Give it a try".


	18. Hiding in plain sight

The three fellows stood outside the patient's room, watching the nurses through the glass as they bustled around adjusting equipment. House hadn't been lying when he'd said that the case would be a challenge. The man had presented with paranoia, difficulty passing water and seizures. After several days of exhaustive testing of himself and family members, failed hypotheses and environmental analysis of his workplace, Foreman and House had come up with a diagnosis of genetic variegate porphyria. Dangerous but treatable: the man had received a liver transplant and was now under close observation. One of the nurses gave a thumbs up from inside the room and the three visibly relaxed. Chase patted the neurologist on the back. "Nice one, Foreman. Who'd've thought we'd get a case of porphyria?".

Foreman exhaled through his nose. "Yeah. We do seem to attract the once in a blue moon cases, don't we? Anyway, it wasn't all me. House played a pretty big role".

"That's a funny saying, isn't it", remarked Cameron, sticking her hands in the pockets of her white lab coat.

"What is?", asked Chase.

"'Once in a blue moon'. I wonder where it comes from", she replied.

"No idea. Maybe something to do with the eclipse?".

Cameron and Foreman shrugged. "House would know", the latter said. "Speaking of, we'd better go and tell him the treatment worked". The three doctors set off for Diagnostics. Just before they reached the office, though, Foreman stopped and turned to face his colleagues. "By the way, I received a free booking at that new German restaurant on Nassau street from a drug rep for Parker-Wright. Would you guys be up for it tonight? It's a one-time thing".

"Sure thing. I haven't got anything planned with Mathilde, so I should be free", Chase replied.

"Absolutely", agreed Cameron. "I've run past that place a few times and the smells are something else".

"I bet you're a fan of a nice sausage, aren't you, Cameron?", Chase joked.

"Oh, ha ha", returned the immunologist good-naturedly. "Anyway, if you really want to be talking about _sausages_ , I'm sure Foreman would be interested to hear of the meat on offer at Casa di Chase, right?".

Chase hurriedly apologised in the face of Foreman's laughter. "Well, as long as you two promise to behave yourself this time. I'm not playing mediator again", remarked the neurologist with a sidelong glance at his two colleagues. He didn't want a repeat of the Café Spoleto fiasco. It had been a bumpy start since the reopening of Diagnostics, but things had so far been relatively smooth. Chase had seemingly moved on with the new nurse and Cameron…well, he wasn't sure about Cameron. As far he knew, she and House were persevering with their harmless flirtation and nothing significant had happened. Still, she did seem happier, which made him automatically suspicious. As for House, Foreman had noticed no change. He suddenly had an idea. "Maybe we should ask House, too. After all, this was a team triumph". Foreman kept a close eye on his female colleague as he spoke.

Cameron experienced a flash of adrenaline at House's name but remained impassive. "Sure. I've no problem with that. I bet you won't get him to come", she replied. Though she had thought about the diagnostician constantly, they had not shared any time alone since he had brought her to work several days ago – the case had been all-consuming and their boss had often ensconced himself in his office or with coma guy, oblivious to those outside his bubble. She was used to this and knew it to be an aspect of his personality that she would never look to change. Cameron cared for House dearly, and although she hoped that he would someday feel as strongly for her as she did for him, she accepted that there would be times when he would shut himself away with just his thoughts for company.

Foreman was unconvinced but let it slide. With a bit of luck, he'd be able to observe the interaction between her and House in person. "Chase? Are you OK if I invite House too?".

"Up to you, Foreman. It might be interesting". The intensivist had mellowed slightly since his outburst in Café Spoleto. He still harboured strong feelings for Cameron, and resented her interest in their boss, but Mathilde at least helped to take the edge off.

The three fellows walked into House's office to see him with his feet up on the desk watching _Murder, She Wrote_ and spinning a cricket ball from hand to hand. He didn't acknowledge their presence. Foreman began speaking anyway. "Timothy has received a liver transplant and it seems to be taking. We'll keep him under observation for the next several days to be sure, but the signs are good. House?". The diagnostician held up a finger, silencing his subordinate. Jessica Fletcher was lecturing the young man on the TV, who could only be the main antagonist of the episode. Foreman sighed. " _House_?".

Only when the credits began rolling did their boss turn in his chair. "Timothy…?".

"Perkins? The porphyria guy?".

"Ah, yes, of course. Good work, team. I knew I could count on you to prove my hypothesis". House replaced the ball on the desk and scanned the faces of his employees, ensuring that he didn't linger on Cameron. He'd missed her these last few days and didn't trust himself to remain neutral. "I suppose you'll be wanting to bunk off early, eh? Paint the town red? Let your hair down?". House glanced at Foreman: "metaphorical hair in your case, Formster. Well, I'm feeling generous, so I release you from my service. But I am _not_ going to be bailing you out of jail if you get in trouble. Keep it clean, people". House wagged a finger at them and turned to his computer. No one moved. "Err", said House, spinning round to face forwards again. "Class dismissed? No? OK. How about: leave, stat! Hmm. Simon saaaaays: leave my office. Well, I'm out of ideas".

Foreman summoned up his courage, staring straight ahead as he spoke. "We'd like to invite you to eat with us tonight, Dr. House. We've not been out together as a team since our, ah, reunification, and I thought now might be a good chance to rectify that".

House leant back in his chair and drummed his fingers against the wood, amused. "You're asking if I want to have dinner with you?". Though they'd been out together before, a great deal of time had passed. Things had changed, personally and professionally. "I just think we should celebrate as a team, and the others agree with me", stated Foreman. Chase muttered in the affirmative. House's eyes darted to Cameron involuntarily, seeking her guidance. If she was OK with it, he'd go. She winked. "You know what, Iceman, that's a good idea. I'm in", he said. Foreman nodded, gave him the time and place, and the three turned to leave.

"Oh, Dr. Cameron? I had a skim of the paper draft you sent me. If you have a few minutes I can take you through my comments if you'd like?", House asked conversationally.

Cameron turned quickly. She had been desperately trying to think of an excuse to stay behind but had come up blank. The paper was an excellent pretext – she had mentioned it to the others last week, so it wouldn't be at all suspicious that she had sought their boss' feedback. "Oh, great. That would be useful, thanks". Foreman's eyes darted between House and Cameron, but he could detect nothing untoward. "You want me to wait for you, Cameron, or are you going to make your own way home?", the neurologist asked from the doorway.

"No, you go on ahead. I don't know how long I'll be. I'll run back when I'm done, take a shower, and make my own way to the restaurant". Cameron could feel House's eyes on her body.

Foreman nodded and left. Chase glanced at Cameron but also left with a little wave: "see you guys later, then". The door clanged shut.

For a couple of seconds nothing happened. A phone rang down the corridor, which acted as a catalyst. Both ran around the desk and their bodies collided. House wrapped his arms around Cameron, holding her tightly as his mouth frantically sought hers. The immunologist whimpered and accepted his tongue with her own, running her hands under his shirt and digging her nails into skin. House growled and picked up his subordinate, depositing her unceremoniously on the desk with one hand while clearing papers away with the other. His hands dived under her blouse as he half kissed half nibbled along her jaw and neck, feeling the metal of her necklace under his tongue, as he roamed her smooth back with his hands. "I missed you", he whispered. Cameron kissed him more fiercely in response.

After a couple of minutes his right hand slipped downwards, and his fingers edged slightly under the waistband of her pants. But no further. "Just touch me", Cameron hissed, locking her legs around his waist.

House drew back slightly, eyes burning, a smile playing on his lips. "I could. But I won't". Cameron dug her nails into his back, attempting to force the issue, but House was unmoved: "I was taught not to go for dessert before dinner. Ruins the appetite".

"Whoever taught you that was a moron", Cameron retorted, desperately trying to pull House closer with her arms and legs. But she wasn't strong enough, and her position on the desk afforded no purchase. Again, he smiled infuriatingly. "You're a tease, House", she whispered softly, accepting defeat, though still gazing into his eyes.

"That's one way of looking at it", he conceded. "Another way is that I intend to enjoy you, to enjoy us", House suddenly leant forwards and whispered into her ear, "slowly and deliberately. Can you wait for me to do that? I need to know."

"Yes, I can wait". Cameron understood immediately what he was asking. _These_ were the terms of engagement. He wasn't ready, and she would wait until he was. She kissed him gently, both hands caressing his cheeks. "I can wait", she reiterated.

"Good. What are you doing Friday?", he asked, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Hmm. Let me check my diary". Cameron made a show of retrieving her phone from her pocket and scrolling through the menu. "Ah, that's a shame. I'm due to go out with Wilson on Friday. Another time, maybe?".

House grinned. "Now who's a tease? Anyway, you aren't Wilson's type. He prefers needy damsels in distress".

"That's too bad. Oh well. I guess I'll just have to settle for his best friend instead". Cameron drew House once again into a deep kiss. "I'll take that as a yes, you're free Friday", he murmured.

"I'm always free for you, House. What have you got planned?".

"That's for me to know", he replied, brushing his lips against her forehead, "and for you to find out".

Cameron wrinkled her nose. "Is it monster trucks?".

"That's a great idea. We had fun last time. Would you fancy it?", House pulled back again.

The immunologist laughed. "As long as you're there, I'd fancy it. But that's only because I fancy _you_ ".

"Yeah?". House pulled Cameron, who was still sitting on the desk, towards him, taking most of her weight on his hips. "Why do you like me?". Though his tone was playful, Cameron recognised that it was a serious question. He still hadn't figured her out, still had no idea what made him irresistible to her. She would confess to him. But not yet. She wanted his curiosity to burn, to make him hungry, to make him want her as much as she wanted him. The brunette cradled his face in her hands and looked into his eyes. "I'll tell you everything you want to know, House. But not now. Now I need to get ready for our dinner".

House accepted her words with a nod and held her hand as they walked to the office door. "Do you want a lift home?".

"Nah, I fancy a run. I'll see you tonight. By the way, I think Foreman is suspicious about us. He keeps looking at me", she said, draping her lab coat over the chair ready for tomorrow.

"That makes two of us, then". House shrugged into his jacket, gathered up the papers that he had swept to the floor in a passion, and turned off the lamp. Since his back was to the other, he couldn't see the flush that had spread across her cheeks at the unexpected and casual admission of his desire. Cameron forced herself to remain cool, clearing her throat. "I just think we should be careful is all".

"You're right. We act normal tonight. Just colleagues. Nothing happening here", House agreed. They walked into the corridor and he locked the door behind them. "But you're gonna have to change your look or something, because if you wear that black dress again, I can't promise that I'll be on my best behaviour". House gave an apologetic shrug as Cameron smiled and took his arm. In that moment she didn't care if anyone saw and, in that moment, neither did he.


	19. Touch and go

"Did House and Cameron seem off to you earlier?", Foreman asked Chase as they prepared to leave the hospital for the night.

The intensivist glanced at the other in the mirror as he buttoned up his shirt. "Off in what way?".

"I dunno really", admitted Foreman. "I'm just trying to decide whether things are still normal between them or if something's happened".

A shadow passed across the Australian's face. Though he had managed to quench the force of his feelings for Cameron, and though things were going well with Mathilde, the thought of his boss and colleague together caused a knot in his stomach. House was bad for her – why couldn't she see it? Why couldn't she see _him_? Chase sighed. "Well, she still likes him. I suppose it's possible...". Chase trailed off, struck by a sudden idea. Perhaps he had been going about it all wrong. Rather than actively trying to prevent Cameron and House from getting together, maybe he should instead let it happen. That way it would burn out as quickly as it started, and she would realise that reality could never hope to live up to fantasy. And he would be there to pick up the pieces.

Foreman, taking the other's unfinished sentence as indicative of heartache, patted his friend on the shoulder. "Sorry, forget I said anything. I know this must be tough for you".

"Don't worry about it, mate. I've got Mathilde now anyway", Chase replied, slamming his locker shut with a little more force than was necessary. "I actually don't mind House, to be honest. I say if they like each other they should be allowed to see where it goes".

Foreman raised his eyebrows. "You've changed your tune. Is Mathilde really as good in the sack as she looks?".

Chase smirked but refused to answer. "Look, if you want to investigate them, be my guest; but I'm coming to peace with the situation. Maybe you should too. See you later. Half seven, right?".

Foreman nodded, watching as the intensivist left the room. Something was up, either with House and Cameron, or with Chase. It was only a month or so ago that the latter had all but confessed his love for the immunologist. Those feelings don't just disappear, girlfriend or no. Agendas were currently hidden. At some point they would emerge into the light. The neurologist shrugged into his jacket, closed his locker and left to prepare for the group meal.

* * *

Cameron was in her bedroom, wrapped in a towel, considering what to wear to dinner. There were many options. If it was just her and House, she could really have fun and pull out all the stops. She could make herself irresistible. But it wasn't just her and House, and this was not a date; this was a friendly meal with colleagues and House was, as far as everyone else knew, absolutely not her boyfriend. _He's not actually your boyfriend at all, Allison. Not yet anyway_. The immunologist's heart fluttered at the prospect of their forthcoming Friday date. _That_ would be the time to make House's jaw drop. Until then, she would play it cool and conservative. The last thing she wanted was to entice Chase or flaunt herself before him unnecessarily. That would just be cruel, and she was not a cruel person.

On the other hand, she thought, thumbing through the hangers in her closet, there was nothing intrinsically wrong with dressing to impress when the chance arose. Her job afforded her so few opportunities to embrace her femininity. For one thing, hospitals were messy, busy places and it simply wasn't practical to move much beyond pumps and pants. For another, her male-dominated environment had made her extra careful as to her wardrobe. She had nothing to fear from her immediate colleagues, of course, but the lecherous looks from other doctors and patients were never far away, especially if those patients (or doctors) were angry or felt that they had nothing to lose. It was an unfortunate reality but reality nonetheless.

She made the odd concession, though. The subtle eyeliner here or the laced bra there; the occasional button undone on a blouse. Nothing extravagant, but enough. Since House had signalled his interest, she had begun to do this more often, seeing what drew his eye, revelling in the knowledge that even something as simple as her clothes could cause him to stare and stumble. He was so strong, so weirdly unconventional, and yet for all his uniquely magnetic qualities, he was just a man; and she was just a woman. This was a comforting reflection which helped to ground the fantasy. Whatever complications arose in their fledgling relationship, as long as they remembered this basic biological fact, problems could be overcome.

Cameron's fingers alighted on the black dress to which House had alluded earlier in the evening. She looked back on that night with decidedly mixed feelings. As she had admitted to House recently, being picked apart in a restaurant was not an especially pleasant experience. In a way, she should have expected his reaction. She had learnt that House rarely responded well to direct questions, especially if he hadn't been offered any information in return. To ask him straight out what he thought of her was to invite disaster. Much better was to offer him something first and then say your piece. Their moment in the lab recently was a textbook example. He had come to her with a question, she had answered, then she had asked him a question and received an answer. Like an equation, it balances itself out in the end, but only as long as both parties enter data. It was a useful way of conceptualising the situation with her idiosyncratic boss.

But, uncomfortable psychoanalysis aside, that night had also confirmed to her that House had not been entirely truthful when he had first denied that he liked her. She saw beyond the superficial praise of her appearance that he had offered upon sitting down and looked into his eyes, his posture, the modulation of his voice. These were signs not even a man as clever as House could fake. And just now, he had finally confessed the feelings stirred up by the black dress, the feelings which she was convinced she had detected that evening. This was why she had pursued him, even after innumerable rejections. Attraction wasn't everything, but it was something. And now, finally, she had a way in. The black dress had done its job – she wouldn't be needing it tonight.

* * *

Foreman was the first to arrive. He was led to a booth against the wall and ordered a beer, scanning the place while he waited for the others. It was incredibly cosy. The ceilings were low and made of a heavy wood, giant beams crisscrossing at regular intervals. The light was soft and unobtrusive, casting parts of the dining area in shadow, and decorative pewter steins were fixed by the windows here and there. Faint orchestral music could be heard over the hum of conversation and the tinkling of cutlery. The waitress returned with his beer and he took a long draught while he studied the menu, luxuriating in its quaintness. Everything was in German with facing English translation. _Lovely_ , he thought.

Next to arrive was Cameron. She had gone for an emerald green dress which ended just above the knee, and a smartly woven black cardigan. Her wavy brown hair fell loose to her shoulders and there was a subtle makeup under her eyes. She had not bothered with lipstick, or if she had Foreman couldn't detect it. All in all, she was a picture of understated elegance. No wonder Chase liked her. The neurologist rose from his seat as she approached and kissed her affectionately on the cheek. "You scrub up pretty well, Cameron", he said, gesturing for her to take the bench opposite.

The immunologist laughed. "Thanks, friend. I like your shirt". Foreman acknowledged the compliment and handed her a menu.

Chase, dressed sharply in blue shirt and a narrow grey tie with matching blazer, was next to arrive. His unruly mop of blonde hair had been tamed somewhat. "Alright, muckers? What beer is that?", he asked, as he too kissed Cameron's cheek and sank into the bench next to Foreman.

"I've no idea", the neurologist replied. "I just asked the waitress what she'd recommend, and she suggested this. It's damn nice". Chase nodded and tried to catch the attention of a server.

"You guys wanna take a bet that House doesn't show up?", Foreman asked.

"No way. The bloody menu's in German. He'd never pass up the chance to dazzle us with his linguistic ability", the intensivist said.

Cameron perused the wine list as she replied. "He'll be here".

Foreman's eyes narrowed slightly. "What makes you so sure?".

"Female intuition. You wouldn't know anything about that, eh?", she smirked.

"You say that, Cameron, but I've seen Foreman throwing a baseball and it definitely looks like the work of a female", Chase joked.

"Pff. You're just bitter after our baseball vs. cricket debate", retorted the other, swigging his beer.

"You're talking about cricket? I'm glad I decided to come now", interjected House as he approached the table. The two men made to leave their seats but their boss waved them down. "Please don't. I thought I made my thoughts on handshaking clear last month", he said, shifting into the vacant place next to Cameron. "Dr. Cameron", he offered, as he removed his leather jacket and handed it to a hovering staff member.

"Dr. House", she replied, eyes twinkling. She had observed him during his exchange with the others and had been hard-pressed not to stare. His hair was characteristically messy, and his 5'o clock shadow was back. But in place of a creased shirt, tatty jacket and running shoes he wore a suave navy-blue blazer with a crisp white shirt open at the collar, and a pair of dark dress shoes. The immunologist suspected it was the diminished light in the place, but his permanent tan and black, greying hair, gave him a distinguished, almost Mediterranean, look. In that instant, he was breath-taking. She hid her attraction by burying herself in a menu.

"Well, this is all very cosy, isn't it?", observed House as he glanced at the menu in Cameron's hands. He was aware that their legs were touching beneath the table. He laced his hands and cleared his throat softly. "How'd you find this place, Formdog?".

"Drug rep", the other replied.

"Huh, that must be nice for you, being the centre of attention. If I recall, the last rep you slept with was really after me". Chase snorted into his beer, but Foreman shrugged. House smiled, appreciating the latter's sporting behaviour. "So what looks good?". The diagnostician peered more closely at the menu his neighbour was holding. He smelled her fragrant shampoo and felt the silk of her dress against his leg. Cameron could see House looking and tilted it towards him, enabling him to see the English translation. "No need, but thanks". He patted her leg under the table but quickly caught himself and brought it back to the wooden surface. Cameron wished his hand hadn't moved.

At length they ordered and drank whilst waiting for the food. The conversation began haltingly but gradually picked up as the three colleagues acclimatised to having the boss in their midst. It was a strange situation. They were all entirely comfortable with each other in the cut and thrust of the hospital, but in the close formality of a restaurant things were different. The circumstances weren't helped by the fact that two of the diners were trying desperately to keep their feelings for the other under some semblance of control. House intentionally kept glances to a minimum and his odd joke at Cameron's expense brought laughter and ensured things remained light. His latest effort, which welcomed the food's arrival, had even the reserved Foreman laughing. Cameron pretended to be offended, but under the table her hand slipped to his knee, and he covered her fingers with his own, remaining like this for as long as they dared.

The conversation flowed more easily as glasses were emptied and refilled. Cameron and Foreman discussed the merits or otherwise of Chicago pizza while House and Chase engrossed themselves in cricket chat. Though Cameron devoted much of her attention to the man opposite, she always had half an ear on the conversation of her colleagues. She wasn't a sports fan, and the little she did know about cricket hardly screamed excitement, but it clearly captivated House, who spoke animatedly to his intensivist regarding the relative merits of Australia and England. What she really wanted to know was when and where he picked up this interest. She resolved to ask him about it when they were alone, and her fingers returned once more to House's hand which had dropped to his lap. Foreman had shown no sign that he was aware of their covert hand holding, and in that moment she didn't care. The thought of being with House was becoming more familiar with every passing day, though she supposed that they should at least venture on a date or two before going public. _And this was not a date_. But she could still have some fun.

On the spur of the moment, and whilst still maintaining conversation with Foreman, Cameron took House's hand and placed it on her bare knee. He was in the middle of discussing the strengths of Australia's bowling attack and seemed barely to notice the change. _Let's see if he notices this_ , she thought to herself. Cameron waited until Foreman finished his point and went for a draught of beer. With a quick glance around, she noted that there were no serving staff or fellow diners nearby. _Perfect_. She once more took House's hand in her own and carefully guided it under the hem of her dress. This movement did cause House to turn to her with an enquiring look, though he said nothing, aware that Chase was watching. She met his gaze impassively, daring him to pull away. They had agreed to play it cool, but the brunette wanted to see just how cool he could be under pressure.

House turned back to Chase while Cameron asked Foreman how his brother Marcus was faring in jail, hoping to provoke him into a lengthy monologue. Wish granted. Emboldened by the fact that he hadn't moved away, the immunologist took a fortifying gulp of wine and guided House so that his entire hand rested under the silk, just above her knee. Then, inch by inch, she moved him upwards. Cameron took another sip of wine and attempted to slow her racing heart. This was the most daring thing she had ever done. Foreman said something and was looking like he expected a comment; she nodded and hummed, hoping it would be a satisfactory response. Apparently so, because he carried on talking as House's fingers danced across her flesh. The man himself seemed momentarily lost for words and Chase prompted him: "Well?".

"Well what? Sorry, I spaced out a bit there. Must have been your accent", House muttered, glancing at his female companion out of the corner of his eye.

"Do you think Josh Hazlewood is a better bowler than James Anderson?".

"Er, yeah, look it's a tough one...". the diagnostician proceeded to discourse on the merits of both players, but his mind was well and truly elsewhere. Cameron would have smirked if only she hadn't been trying to mask the signs of her own arousal. His hand progressed slowly on its journey, long, calloused fingers in contrast to the smooth skin of Cameron's upper thigh. Again, she looked round surreptitiously as if observing the décor but really to check that they were still safe from prying eyes. As Foreman took another swig and excused himself to the bathroom she glanced down and saw that her clothing had crumpled somewhat yet still fully covered the evidence of House's attentions.

Meanwhile House was trying desperately to act like he didn't have his hand up his subordinate's dress in a public place, which was easier said than done. He leant forwards towards Chase so as to keep the man's attention on his face. House had come to appreciate that Cameron wasn't quite as timid and reserved as he'd initially thought, but this was something else entirely. She was bold and brazen. It was a massive turn on. Still, he couldn't allow this to continue, not in front of Chase, who seemed completely oblivious as he waxed lyrical about the Australian batting order. He was on the point of removing his hand until he heard Cameron sigh deeply beside him. He chanced a glance – her eyelashes flickered, and he could detect a flush on her cheeks. She spread her legs a little and looked at him. Her green eyes were jet black in the shadow of the booth, and her mouth was open slightly. _Beautiful_ , he thought, turning back to Chase and making a noise of agreement.

House had reached Cameron's inner thigh. He was so close to where she wanted him most, and he could feel the heat radiating from her core. Before he could complete his journey, however, a waitress came back to collect the plates and ask how they'd found the food. This brought them both back to reality and House withdrew his hand with such speed that if the light hadn't been so subdued, he would have been found out at once. As it was, Chase was caught up chatting to the attractive waitress and Foreman had yet to return from the bathroom. House breathed a sigh of relief as his heart hammered in his chest. He turned to Cameron and she too looked flustered but excited. "Hey, Chase, go and check on homie. He's been gone a while and I need to know if I have to look for another neurologist".

"What? No, you go. We're off the clock and I'm chatting to Amelie here".

House glanced at the woman. "Sprechen Sie Deutsch?", he asked her.

Her eyes widened in surprise, but she smiled and answered: "ja, natürlich. Meine Mutter kommt aus Berlin.

"Wunderbar!". House leant back in his chair while he considered what to say. Cameron and Chase looked at him warily. He stifled a grin and tried to look serious. "Dieser Mann war letzte Woche noch eine Frau. Das lange blonde Haar ist ganz natürlich, wenn Sie wissen was ich meine…". [This man was a woman last week. That long blonde hair is entirely natural, if you know what I mean]. The diagnostician looked straight at the woman as he spoke, brutally suppressing the urge to laugh – he needed to really sell it or it wouldn't work.

The waitress' smile at a fellow German speaker froze on her face as she glanced from House to Chase, her eyes drifting involuntarily to his hair. A consummate professional, she quickly regathered herself and asked if they wanted dessert. House turned to the brunette beside him. "Would you like dessert, Cameron?".

"No, I'm done. I couldn't eat another bite".

"OK, I'll go get your check", the waitress said, hurrying off.

" _Now_ could you go check on Foreman?", House asked.

"I've no idea what you said, House, but-", Chase started, folding his arms.

"Relax. I simply told her that you were with another person and that you'd break her heart eventually. That's true, right? Or what would Mathilde say?". Chase sighed but nevertheless moved off to find his errant colleague. As soon as he was out of sight, House and Cameron kissed deeply, disregarding the looks from neighbouring tables. Eventually they broke apart. "What brought that on, huh? We could've been caught", he asked softly.

"I was tired of your cricket chat, House. I had to take matters into my own hands". Cameron smiled at him. "Your face was priceless, and Chase didn't have a clue".

"Hmm. I'm not complaining, but it was your idea that we should act normal tonight. _That_ was not normal".

"Normal is boring", she breathed.

"Normal _is_ boring, but we haven't even been on a date yet". House brushed her cheek gently.

"Mmm". Cameron nuzzled against his hand. "Well, maybe we can count this as a date. You nearly got to third base there", the immunologist's eyes sparkled as she remembered the feeling of House's hand on her skin. The diagnostician swallowed as he too thought back a few minutes. With a final peck on the lips, they relaxed into the leather and waited in comfortable silence for their colleagues to return. Suddenly Cameron asked: "what did you tell that woman about Chase? Her face went completely white".

House turned back to her, his mouth curving into a smile. "Oh, nothing. Just that Chase may have been a female up until a few days ago".

For all of a second, the immunologist said nothing, only staring at the other in disbelief. Then she started laughing. House joined in and, before long, both were doubled over in hysterics, tears streaming down their faces.


	20. Women

The following morning found the three fellows in the office drinking coffee and doing their own thing. Chase was busy at a crossword, absentmindedly chewing the end of his pen and leaning back so that two legs of his chair were off the ground. Foreman was reading a medical journal, every now and then making small noises of disagreement. Cameron, meanwhile, was busy working on her article based off the Sjögren's syndrome case. She was making a list of the literature she still wanted to consult and was beginning to thrash out a plan. Once she'd finished these preliminary stages, the writing would follow quickly.

There was the seed of an excellent paper here, but she wanted to get House's opinion before progressing too far. The last time she had sought his feedback on her work, the article had sat on his desk unread for months. Hopefully this time would be different. House himself published very rarely, but when he did release a paper (often at Cuddy's threat of double clinic hours until it was submitted) it invariably ended up in the best journals. His last two had appeared in the _New England Medical Journal_ and _The Lancet_. Cameron wasn't aiming that high herself, but it was something to aspire to. The immunologist mentally chastised herself for allowing her thoughts to drift to her boss when she was meant to be working, but it couldn't be helped.

House possessed a seemingly effortless genius and she didn't know him well enough yet to decide whether it truly was effortless, or whether he worked hard behind the scenes. His home, which she had only once entered and for a fleeting minute or so, would tell her – the type of books he read, the state of his writing desk, the evidence of his discarded doodlings. Perhaps as their relationship developed, she could ask him how his brain worked, how he thought when confronted with a medical problem, or anything else for that matter. She supposed that this was at the root of her overpowering attraction for the man. Like him, she was endlessly curious about their mutual allure. The physical things were a bonus. She loved to see him happier in his skin, mobile, free from Vicodin; but in truth she would desire him just as much if he was forced back to his old life, cane in hand and pills in pocket, if only because these were simply props for House, not House himself – they didn't define the man. But his mind did, and that was what drew her in.

As if detecting that she was now thinking about their boss, Foreman tossed the journal aside and looked at his colleagues. "So what did you think of ze German restaurant last night?". They'd not yet had a debrief and he was curious to get their take on House's antics at dinner.

"I thought it was great", replied Cameron. _But not just because of the food_ , she thought, suppressing a smile.

"Chase?", Foreman asked.

The intensivist looked up. "It was fine? I dunno what you want me to say. The Germans like their meat just as much as Australians, so it's all good as far as I'm concerned". He went back to his crossword.

"What did you guys make of House, though?". Foreman addressed the question to both but looked at Cameron as he spoke. She met his gaze levelly: "he seemed on good form to me, but I'm hardly a House expert".

Chase sighed, aware that his colleague was fishing for information. "I agree with Cameron. I didn't see anything weird. If anything he was even more sarcastic than usual".

"Quite. He seems happier and I don't know why". Again, Foreman looked at the woman opposite, whose heart had leapt in her chest at his observation that House appeared happier. Still, she had grown suddenly tired of these indirect questions. "Hey, what's with all the deep looks, Foreman? If you've got something to say to me, say it. The suspense is killing me". Cameron folded her arms across her chest. She had been dealing with House's intransigence for two years – frankly Foreman was a refreshing diversion.

"Fine. Are you seeing House?", he asked, meeting her gaze. Chase also looked up, crossword momentarily forgotten.

"What on earth gave you that idea?", she retorted.

"Nothing in particular", the neurologist admitted, lacing his hands together on the glass table. "But you've been sharing a fair few glances recently".

Cameron scoffed. "Forgive me for looking at members of the opposite sex. Please don't alert the church elders".

Foreman persevered. "And you seemed pretty _close_ to him at dinner last night".

"What do you mean by that?", Cameron asked, daring him to say what he thought out loud.

The other's eyes darted to Chase so quickly that the latter couldn't have seen it from his position at the side of the room. "Nothing. Forget I said anything", he finished, holding up his hand in a conciliatory gesture and picking up the journal again.

"Good". Cameron's heart rate returned its normal pace. "I'm going to make another cup of coffee if you guys want one". The others nodded and she went over to the pot. At that, the door to the adjoining office opened and House walked in, earphones blaring, slinging his rucksack onto the easy chair and hanging up his leather jacket. "House?", Cameron called through the wall. No reply. "House!", she tried again, louder. Still nothing. "HOUSE!", she bellowed, causing the other fellows to jump slightly. Finally, House removed his buds and looked at her accusingly. He replied through the glass. " _What_? This better be good – Roger Daltrey's about to kick it off".

Cameron put her hands on her hips and spoke from the other room, still through the wall. "I'm making coffee – would you like a cup?".

House considered her words. "I suppose that's a valid reason to cut Daltrey off. Go on then", he replied, slouching at his desk and turning on the computer. Cameron turned back to the pot, but not before she caught Chase and Foreman looking at her oddly. "What?", she demanded. The tone was almost exactly the same as House's. The two men looked at each other. "Er, nothing. Don't worry about it. Coffee would be good, thanks", Chase muttered into his paper. For such a small person, Cameron had a very loud voice when it was required.

After a few minutes' brewing, the immunologist waved at House through the glass. She distributed the mugs and handed one to her boss as he walked into the larger office, ensuring that their fingers brushed. "Cheers, Camster", he said, taking a sip. "Mmm, lovely. You see, men? _This_ is how you make the bossman happy". Cameron simply rolled her eyes and sat back down to her article planning. House wandered over to stand by the window. "Thanks for inviting me out last night, Foreman. It was nowhere near as bad as I was expecting, and I feel like our _relationship_ has developed somewhat". Cameron's heart rate increased once more, though she remained looking at the papers on the table. Foreman inclined his head in acknowledgement.

House's voice changed. "Ugh, speaking of the bossman. All troops – Atten…..shun!". Cuddy burst into the office wearing a harried look. Her normally immaculate curly hair was a little frazzled and there was a sheen of perspiration on her forehead. She glared round the room at the doctors, all of whom were sipping coffee and had looked up in mild interest. "What the hell is going on in here?", she demanded.

"My apologies, ma'am, for this breach of discipline. Employees Chase, Cameron and Foreman: you will all stand to attention and salute the overlord", House intoned in a British accent from the window. No one moved. "My soldiers are mutinous, mistress. I request reinforcements from headquarters".

Cuddy put her hands on her hips. She was having none of it. "House, you and your staff are needed immediately in the ER. There's been a huge pile-up and injured are coming in by the ambulance-load". The fellows immediately began heading for the exit.

"Huh, so _that's_ what all the furore was about downstairs. It made it really hard to listen to Baba O'Riley". House paused. "Don't worry, though. I managed".

"I'm not messing around, House. Go. Now". The three doctors quietly left the room, leaving their boss and his boss to a face-off.

"But moooom-".

" _Now_ ". Cuddy's tone brooked no argument, and House had no desire to test her wrath.

"Fine. But just so you know I'm twice the doctor you'll ever be!", House adopted a whiny voice as he placed his mug in the sink.

Cuddy laughed. "Ohh, ouch. Best take me to the burns unit after that".

"You're right, sorry, that wasn't great", House said as he walked to the door beside her. "I had something of a late night and I'm not at my best. Walk me down?".

"Sure thing, kiddo", replied Cuddy, tapping his butt affectionately as he ambled past. "How's it going with Cameron? Been on that date yet?".

"Tomorrow". They reached the elevator and House pressed the button.

"Ah. Nervous?". Cuddy glanced sidelong at her subordinate. House turned sharply to face her, his blue eyes momentarily unsure, stripped of their irony. "Yes", he answered truthfully, "I am. Hookers are far less stress".

Cuddy placed a hand on his shoulder, all frivolity gone. "Remember what I said. Be yourself. Cameron will take care of the rest". They entered the elevator.

"What makes you say that?", he asked.

"She's a woman. Contrary to what you may believe, we are not just a walking pair of tits. We can vote now, and some of us even run hospitals".

"Don't I know it", House muttered as the doors opened and they entered the hustle and bustle of the lobby.

* * *

Seven hours, innumerable broken bones and countless pints of transfused blood later, House sat on a gurney alongside Wilson, who had also been roped in to assist with the backlog of patients, sipping coffee from a flask. They had been on their feet all day and their legs hurt. The diagnostician massaged his thigh absentmindedly. It ached. Ordinarily he'd ignore it, but it wasn't the first time in the two months since he'd returned that it had caused him unexpected discomfort. He thought back to when he had crouched down by the pharmacy, soon after his 'assessment' with Cameron. Cameron. She was in his head, and had been all afternoon. He hadn't lied when confessing his nervousness to Cuddy. As he reflected on their previous 'dates' – the monster trucks and the restaurant – he recognised that he'd been nervous at the start of both evenings. Wilson would say it was a good thing, since it showed he cared. He did care. That was the frightening thing. He'd been casting bones, bandaging gashes, wiping up blood all day and all he could think about was her. _What is wrong with you_?

"…still think he's in with a good shout", said Wilson.

"Sorry, what was that?". House flicked back to reality.

The oncologist gave him a strange look. "I said that I still think Wilder is in with a good shout".

Boxing. "Yeah, for sure. But the Brits think Tyson Fury is the real deal, and they know a thing or two about fighting. Ask the Germans", House replied.

Wilson scoffed. "I think you'll find that it was the Americans who won the war".

House took the flask from his friend and poured himself another cup. "Spoken like a true believer. Don't trust all the media tells you, man. Question everything. Find out for yourself". The other nodded indulgently, watching as his friend's eyes followed Cameron's movements in another part of the ER. She was chatting to a nurse and bandaging a young boy's arm at the same time. "You like her, don't you", Wilson stated, knowing the answer.

"Guilty, your honour".

"So what's the problem?", the oncologist persisted.

"Huh? There's no problem", House answered quickly.

Wilson said nothing, turning back to the scene before them, seemingly satisfied with this response. Most of the patients had been dealt with but the ER was still busy, and doctors and nurses hurried about. "If I have to get out my pliers, I will, you know", he continued after a few moments.

House chuckled mirthlessly. The pair were quiet for the next couple of minutes. As he had done countless times before, Wilson waited for the other to speak in his own time. "The problem is", House began, "precisely that I _like_ her. It's hard to explain. With Stacey it felt different. I cared for her deeply of course, but she never made me nervous. It all felt very…", House struggled to find the right word, "normal, I guess. And then when she went behind my back and consented to my leg surgery, it tarnished everything and there was no going back".

Again, Wilson remained silent, anticipating more. "I guess I'm still unsure how I'm meant to feel about Cameron", House continued, looking at the floor. "I know _what_ I feel, but I don't know _how_ I should be feeling it; and I'm afraid that, if this all goes wrong and I fuck it up, there'll be no going back. It'll be tarnished, as it was with Stacey".

Wilson sat back against the wall and closed his eyes. Suddenly he started laughing, gently at first but then deeply. "What the hell is so funny?", House asked angrily, jabbing the other in the ribs with his elbow.

Wilson calmed down, dabbing at his eyes with the heel of his palms, and blowing his nose into a crumpled tissue. "House", he began, "I heard everything you just said and I fail to see any problem at all". The other looked at him uncomprehendingly. The oncologist continued: "you're still wrapping your head around your feelings for Cameron and you're apprehensive for the future as it relates to your past, right? Is that a fair summation?". The other nodded slowly.

Wilson draped his arm over House's shoulders. "Welcome to an adult relationship, buddy. No, scratch that. Welcome to the club of being any man ever; hell, welcome to the club of being _human_. I _knew_ you weren't an unfeeling robot". Wilson succumbed to another burst of the giggles. "Thanks, House. I needed that, I really did. Thank you".

House arched an eyebrow, though his anger had drained away. "I'm glad my inner doubts are a source of mirth to you, Jimmy".

The oncologist patted the other's knee. "You'll be OK, House. You'll be OK".

Cuddy caught sight of the relaxed pair and glared, offering them a couple of firm gestures from across the room. Break time was over. "I can't speak for you, Wilson", muttered House, slipping down from the gurney onto his still aching feet, "but I swear these women will be the death of me". The two best friends shared a knowing glance before wading back into the fray.


	21. Chemistry

House returned from clinic duty in the afternoon intending to catch up on some TV and empty his mind of the disgusting ailments he had been forced to confront. He fully accepted that old people could have sex, but _why_ did they insist on coming to his clinic for their examination? One pair of latex gloves wasn't sufficient in this situation. The diagnostician shuddered as he neared the door to his office, but he quickly perked up. _Real Hospitals of Los Angeles_ was on something of a cliff-hanger and he was looking forward to its resolution – Carletta had stormed to Paul's in the evening and insisted he choose between herself and Alice. The hospital politics had played havoc with the surgical rotation, but it couldn't be helped, especially since Tony and Lisa were themselves still trying to figure out their feelings. Meanwhile Trey was sifting through the consequences of his forced paper retraction. All in all, things were pretty fraught.

As soon as he reached his office, though, House stopped. The blinds were drawn across and he could hear the TV through the door. Not only this, but it was the very programme he had saved to watch. He could feel his anger rise. "Wilson!", he yelled as he entered, "what have I told you about watching my shows without me-". But his voice died in his throat as he saw who it was.

"Oh, hi, House!". Cameron had her feet on the desk and was watching TV. House's mouth opened and closed. No words were forthcoming so instead he marched to the desk in righteous indignation. "I hope you don't mind", she said breezily, "but I finished my case files and was looking for something to do and, well, I found your TV". Her eyes flashed as the diagnostician approached, but she didn't move.

"Your feet are on my desk and your ass is in my chair". Ludicrously, House experienced a sudden flash of jealousy towards said chair.

Cameron looked down in feigned surprise. "Hmm, you're right". Still she didn't move. House, who had been standing motionless by the desk, seized his subordinate's feet in his hands. "Move", he growled.

Cameron raised an eyebrow. "I _could_ ", she began, "but I won't". House smiled in spite of himself. She was quoting his words from the other day back at him. He had teased her, refused to touch her, to give her what she wanted. House's hands slipped from her ankles to her calves, beneath her pants. "Do you want to reconsider your answer, Dr. Cameron?".

The woman met his gaze unwaveringly, chewing lightly on a thumbnail. "Nah. I quite like this position. It gives me a great view of the corridor". She stopped, glancing at the shades, which were still pulled across. "Normally, anyway. Plus, I get to, ah, play with your balls". She tilted her head slightly, a picture of innocence.

House's grip tightened and his hands moved further up her smooth limbs, reaching just behind her knees before the pants would yield no more. Without a word, and still holding on to her legs, he walked around the side of the desk, the chair spinning Cameron in response to his movement, and up to the seated woman. Her legs were now either side of his thighs. "Move", he repeated in a low voice. _Real Hospitals of Los Angeles_ was still humming away in the corner of the office, but its occupants were unaware.

"Did you not hear what I said? I like it here. If you want me to move, you're gonna have to make me". Cameron folded her arms.

"Careful what you wish for". With that, House freed his hands and bent slightly, picking up the woman by the waist in one graceful movement. But rather than deposit her to the side he remained still, holding her suspended, feet off the ground. Cameron was not a large person, but she was shocked at the strength of her boss. "Now, what am I going to do with you?", he muttered. The immunologist didn't reply, instead reaching out with her hands and caressing his arms as they held her off the floor. The muscles were completely rigid and she could detect a bead of sweat on his forehead as the exertion took its toll. His grip was vice-like on her waist and his fingers were splayed around her navel. She ignored the pain, marvelling at the power of the man before her. "Put me down and kiss me, House", she answered, voice thick.

The diagnostician followed the instruction, gently lowering his subordinate to the carpet before engulfing her willing mouth with his own. His hands roamed her back and kneaded her butt, pulling her closer. She sighed softly and cupped his face as they kissed. "You taste like raspberries", he murmured.

"I have a bit of a confession, Dr. House. I _may_ have put on some fruity lip gloss and purposely sat in your chair to entice you. Can you forgive me?". House broke contact and sat down, pulling the immunologist into his lap. He brushed his lips to her hair. "I'll think about it". They remained like that for a few moments. The TV was white noise.

"So…..", said Cameron softly, plucking up her courage, "where are we going tonight?". They hadn't spoken about their date for a couple of days and she had been getting nervous. She'd promised herself that she wouldn't be needy, that she would play by his rules and allow him to take things as he wanted. But as the day drew nearer, doubts made themselves heard. What if he'd got cold feet? Or, worse, what if he'd forgotten? She needed clarity, if only for her own peace of mind. She was too preoccupied to notice House's heart beat a little faster.

"Well…", he began. Cameron's stomach turned and the irrational part of her mind went into overdrive. He was going to cancel. Despite everything that had happened, he couldn't commit to her. She prepared to disentangle herself and make as dignified an exit as possible, scarcely registering his next words. "I thought that since the last time we went to see four-wheeled vehicles was a resounding success, that we'd do something similar tonight. Except that we'd be driving them. And they're much smaller than, y'know, monster trucks. We're going go-karting". House finished softly, hoping that it would be acceptable.

The diagnostician felt the woman against him exhale loudly and loosen her grip on his hands. His heart sank. "You don't like it? I knew Wilson was a bad person to ask. He's a moron. I can cancel and we can find a restaurant if you want. In fact, there's a bunch of menus here somewhere…", he spoke hurriedly and moved to open a drawer.

"House – will you just shut up for a second?". Cameron sat up in his lap. Her eyes were shining with relief and happiness. The man himself was still confused. "Are you OK?", he asked, unsure what had brought on this sudden emotion. Go-karting was fun, but it wasn't _that_ fun.

She wiped her eyes roughly with the back of her hand and smiled. "Yes, I'm OK. I'm more than OK. For a second, I thought you were preparing to dump me. I'm thrilled that you're not".

Realisation dawned. Cameron was as insecure as he was about this relationship. This made no sense – _she_ was the beautiful one, the one who could have whomever she wanted. House's heart softened. He returned the smile and drew her into a hug, kissing her forehead. She relaxed into his arms. "Y'know", he said conversationally, "it would be pretty bizarre of me to dump you before the first date, especially since I've not yet had the chance to properly enjoy this…", House's hand dropped to stroke Cameron's butt, "or these….", he moved up to brush against her breasts, "or….", he slipped downwards again and she spread her legs reflexively, anticipating his touch. But suddenly he changed direction and tapped her head with a finger: "that", he finished with a wicked grin. "I bet your brain is a treasure trove of hidden delights, and I intend to uncover them all, one by one".

This admission, that House found her to be an intellectual puzzle worth solving, she found completely fascinating. First of all, it was what she found most attractive in him – above all else she wanted to enter his mind and to witness first-hand how he made sense of the world. Though she observed him keenly in the hospital, this was but a fraction of his life and she knew that he sought out other puzzles at home: his music, his books, and God knows what else. Secondly, though, she had not yet been with a man who was willing to look much beyond her obvious beauty. She took care over her appearance, of course, but as with House's own diversions, her looks were just a part of the whole. And no one had yet intrigued her enough to justify a relationship, to spend the necessary amount of time delving beneath the flawless surface of Allison Cameron. Consequently, most of her relationships, though satisfying physically, had been mentally and intellectually mundane. She yearned for a man who could not just enjoy her, but challenge and understand her; someone who actually knew who the hell Freud was. Until meeting House, the immunologist had believed this to be an unattainable goal.

"So", said House, bringing her back to reality, "I'll pick you up at 7, we'll go karting, then we'll grab a burger or something afterwards".

"Sounds great. But I've no idea what to wear…", she replied, tapping his chest with a finger.

House looked down in surprise. "T-shirt, jeans and jacket. You've not been go-karting before?".

"Well, sure I have. But I was, like, 13 or something".

"Whoa, hey, we're not talking girly go-karting here. We're talking serious machines that guzzle gas and have actual exhaust fumes. If we're gonna be doing this thing you'll need to hold your end up".

Cameron laughed. "Don't worry about me. You just worry about yourself. It would look pretty bad if the mysterious, motorbike-riding genius Dr. House lost in a race to a girl. You wouldn't hear the end of it".

"That's true", House replied, pulling her up so that their eyes were level. "If you turn out to be a magician behind the wheel, I may be forced to handicap you. My reputation is at stake". He pinned her arms behind her back and planted kisses all over her face, his affection disarmingly genuine. She laughed playfully and attempted to turn her head this way and that to avoid his lips. Long brown hair, smelling faintly of pineapple, whipped his cheeks but he persevered, making contact with her nose, cheek and chin before finally finding her mouth, which opened hungrily. They kissed deeply for a few moments before commotion filtered through from next door. "Foreman and Chase are back from their consultations. You'd best get in there and pretend like you weren't just sitting in the boss' lap".

Cameron smirked, but nevertheless sprang down and straightened her hair and clothes. "Well, until later, Dr. House". She left the office to re-join the others.

The diagnostician smiled despite himself. He could still taste raspberry, still feel her hair against his face. House turned to the television which had been running all this time and rewinded it. He shook his head and settled in for a much-needed break, hoping to push the woman out of his mind, hoping to combat the gradual warmth that spread through his body whenever she was near.


	22. Like riding a bike (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In true House fashion we have a cheeky two-parter on the cards. Funny how things work out, ain't it?

"So you decided on go-karting then? Good plan. Start off nice and casual, no pressure, and gradually amp it up from there. The last thing you wanna do is start off big, because then you have nowhere to go". Wilson was slouched in his friend's armchair sipping beer and watching football on low volume.

House grunted and retrieved his leather jacket from the stand by the door. "Speaking from personal experience there, Wilson? What, did you take Sam to the Eiffel Tower for the first date or something?".

"Nope. Roman Colosseum". The oncologist didn't look up as he spoke.

House's head span round from the mirror, meeting his friend's eye, which had lifted at the movement. They looked at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. The diagnostician shook his head. "You don't know shit about the Colosseum". He turned back to the mirror.

Wilson scoffed. "And you do? No, wait, don't answer that. A boring history lesson from Professor House is the last thing I want".

"History isn't boring. I'd educate you but I have somewhere to be". Satisfied with his appearance, House ambled down the corridor to find his shoes.

"Yeah, yeah. Save it for someone who might actually put out", muttered the oncologist, taking another swig of beer. House decided not to mention that he had spotted several history books in Cameron's bag when he had conducted covert operations a few weeks back. "Speaking of putting out", Wilson said conversationally, "I still have those anti-bacterial condoms from your last date with Cameron if you need 'em".

"That was over a year ago. Going through a dry patch, are we?", House commented as he tied his laces.

"Sort of. But it's more that, for some inexplicable reason, whenever I see them, your ugly mug pops into my head. Suffice to say, the mood dies somewhat after that".

"Don't sweat it, pal. People already think we're gay anyway". House was ready to leave. He got up and retrieved his helmet from the sidetable. Wilson rose to his feet and gave him a once-over. "OK. Now, remember: you like her, she likes you. Be nice, be open, be calm. Be you but don't be too you. Don't fuck this up. Sexy brunettes willing to be your girlfriend do not grow on trees, so maybe let her win a race or two".

House rolled his eyes "Thanks, dad. I've done this before, you know".

Wilson raised an eyebrow. "Not since disco-".

The diagnostician pointed a finger. " _Don't_ say it". The last thing he needed was a reminder of a date that didn't go well before a date that he _wanted_ to go well. "If I come back and all my alcohol is gone...I know where you live", he said. Wilson grunted in response as House moved to the door and opened it.

"Good luck!", shouted the oncologist as the door slammed shut. "I hope you won't need it", he muttered to himself.

* * *

House pulled up to Cameron's apartment block and dismounted. He entered the building and climbed the stairs, using the time to take a few deep breaths and calm pre-date nerves. Though he was no stranger to female company (an image of Wilson scoffing at that flashed through his mind), he hadn't been on an actual date for a long time. It was very easy to take from women about whom you cared nothing and whom you would likely never see again. But this was Cameron. Not only did he see her every day, but he actually cared for, and didn't want to hurt, her. This reflection really put the pressure on. Their previous 'dates' had not really been worth the name. The monster trucks evening was categorically _not_ one, and the Café Spoleto one was extorted. But tonight was his idea and there was no way to spin it – this was a date. _Scary_. House prayed to Satan that it would be just like riding a bike. As he knocked on her door, the thought brought him comfort because he was brilliant with two wheels. _Like riding a bike, Greg. Like riding a bike_ …

Cameron opened the door and beamed at him. "Hi", she said. If she was nervous, she didn't show it.

"Hey", he answered, grateful for her winning smile. He kissed her. Raspberries. "I, er, got you something". He handed over a small package from his leather jacket as he entered the apartment and closed the door.

"House, you didn't need to do that…". Cameron's voice trailed off as she took a small box from the paper wrapping. She gasped. It was stamped Tiffany. "House…", she looked up, but his gaze had suddenly found a fascinating spot to study over her left shoulder. "Honestly, this wasn't necessary", she breathed.

"Just open it". Still he refused to meet her eye.

Cameron swallowed and reverently cracked the ornate box open. If he'd got her a necklace or a bracelet she was going to cry. The lid lifted gradually, revealing the treasure within. She took it out.

"Well?", asked House. "What do you think?".

The immunologist looked at the item in her hand and then back to House. A smile spread across her face from ear to ear. The gift had House written all over it, and that made it priceless. "It looks… _amazing_ ".

"I know, right? Why don't you give it a whirl and we can see what we're working with". House grinned like a Cheshire Cat.

Cameron nodded, picked up the object, and took a huge bite out of it. House looked on expectantly. "God, this is so good", she managed between chews. "How did you…? Where did you…? It's so rich yet light; so chocolatey". Bits of brownie flecked round her mouth but she didn't care.

House laughed. "I'm afraid I can't say. Trade secret and all that. Hey, save some for me". He reached out to grab the brownie, but Cameron sidestepped away.

"I think not. This was a gift for _me_ ". She tried to remain stern and glaring but it was proving difficult to maintain her expression whilst still attempting to stuff as much of the treat into her face as possible.

"I got that for us to share!". House retorted as he made a second move towards the woman before him.

"Ah, well, you failed to make that clear. Not my problem that you suck at communication, Dr. House". Cameron gave a little shriek as the other lunged towards the brownie. Before long, the immunologist had scampered behind the sofa and House tore off after her. "You won't catch me, House...mffffhmph-", shouted Cameron between mouthfuls as she led him in rings around her apartment. "I'm an expert…mfffhmhyummy...runner, and I know this place like…omnomnom…the back of my hand". She was leaving a trail of chocolate crumbs in her wake, but she'd not counted on House's grim determination, nor his loping stride. The immunologist could sense the other gaining ground and she really put her head down, surprised at House's speed. _I knew he was fit but jeez. What is this guy?_

Round and round they went, through the open rooms of the apartment. Cameron was at a disadvantage – she was in bare feet which granted little purchase on the wooden and carpeted floors; House, though, still had on his sneakers. It was only a matter of time. Before long the chaser caught his squealing quarry and wrestled her to the sofa. Both were breathing heavily. "Where is it?", the diagnostician asked, smelling her chocolatey breath, the evidence of her guilt.

"I ate it. It was _yummy_ ", Cameron replied, looking up into House's eyes, feeling his weight above her.

House growled. "I wanted some. There's no way you managed it all while we were running. Give it to me".

Suddenly Cameron's eyes changed. They lost their mock fear, their mischief, their playfulness. "I'll give you anything you want, House. Anything at all".

House's expression also changed. His eyes were suddenly far-off, unfathomable, and his grip on her body slackened a little. The immunologist silently cursed herself for ruining the moment and prepared to make a hasty retraction. But as she opened her mouth to speak, the other placed his finger on her lips. "Do you really mean that?", he asked softly, removing his finger.

"Yes", she whispered.

"Good, because right now I want to kiss you, Cameron". His voice had dropped to the husky murmur that was becoming increasingly familiar to the immunologist. The other made no reply, instead pulling him into a fierce kiss. House's tongue explored the brunette's mouth, tasting the chocolate and the raspberry of her lip gloss. "Hmm, I think you taste better than the brownie anyway", he commented. Cameron inhaled sharply as she could feel him against her hip. "And I think my body agrees", he grinned. "Come on, we'd better go or I'll never leave this place".

The woman laughed and accepted his hand, enjoying the sensation in her chest and the warmth that had briefly begun to radiate from her core. She felt like a teenager again as she took the helmet he offered and left the apartment, excited for the evening ahead.


	23. Like riding a bike (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> House and Cuddy have a go-karting date in season 7. I've shamelessly stolen the idea. Also, I never did a disclaimer: I don't own House. Fox do. Glad that's cleared up.

House and Cameron each took a helmet and followed the attendant to the track. They listened to his instructions regarding the details of their karts before shaking their heads to a demonstration. The fellow nodded disinterestedly and walked away. Cameron could sense the excitement of the man beside her. It was almost childlike, and completely endearing. It never ceased to amaze her how a person as smart as he could take delight in such simple things – TV shows, Gameboys, sports. At times it felt as if she had to study so hard, pay such close attention to her work, simply to stay afloat; whereas House excelled at his job with room to spare. If she didn't harbour as deep an attraction towards him as she did, she imagined that this reality would be extremely galling. As it was, the immunologist regarded jealousy as completely futile. House was so far above most other doctors that it was easier simply to accept that, as far as medicine went, they were running in different races.

"OK, so, just to recap what that moron was saying, there is no stick, so all you have to do is brake, accelerate and steer". House pointed out the relevant parts of the vehicle. "Think you can manage that?".

"Yes. It's a pity, though. I'm pretty good with a stick". Cameron winked suggestively.

House was unimpressed. "This is no time for fun and games, OK?".

"I beg to differ. This place is literally called Fun Frank's Karting". The woman smirked and put a hand on her hip.

"Yeah, yeah. Now show me how you plan on setting up. Come. Sit". House gestured to the vehicle and watched as Cameron positioned herself in the seat and placed her hands on the wheel. "Not bad, not bad. Try putting one here and the other here, though". The diagnostician took her hands and moved them into the new position. "That way you have more purchase and manipulating the wheel around the hairpins should be a bit easier".

"Huh, that actually does feel better". Cameron flexed her fingers on the wheel.

"OK, now, the key is to keep your body as loose as possible in the arms and legs so that you aren't white-knuckling the wheel or hammering the pedals…". House crouched down beside her and ran his hands down her arms, giving them a gentle squeeze. "Space your legs further apart so you have a stronger base. Like this". He nudged the inside of her thighs, lingering slightly longer than was necessary. She sighed softly. "No, don't. I'm trying to help you here", he remonstrated, apparently deadly serious.

"Oh, I know. I'm really appreciating it, thanks". Cameron smiled sweetly.

House raised an eyebrow but soldiered on regardless. "Now, while you want looseness in your limbs, you want strength in your core. This'll help you counteract the force of the corners and keep you on the right line".

"Like this?". Cameron did as she was told.

"Almost. Sit up a bit straighter, and make sure your butt is all the way back in the seat". The immunologist made the necessary adjustments while House looked on approvingly. "Very good. Now remember: arms, legs, core. Maintain that perfect triangle and you'll be fine. We're ready to give it a go. The aim is to use the brakes as sparingly as possible – the gas is your friend".

"Got it, thanks".

"You don't need to thank me, Cameron. We're in this together". House winked at her and wandered over to his own vehicle whilst she completed last minute tinkering and attempted not to over-interpret House's admission that they were a team. She was failing spectacularly. _Get a grip, Allison. He's talking about go-karts_. She secured the helmet, hit the ignition button and cruised to the start line. The track was deserted. House pulled up alongside, his eyes alight with barely contained excitement. "Shall we have a couple of practice laps before we get down and dirty? You can lead us off and I'll follow. Remember, always-". Before he could finish, though, Cameron floored it, shooting from the start line with a roar and a screech of tyres.

House laughed through the smoke and set off in pursuit, pedal to the metal. He could see her hair streaming out from under the helmet, though he couldn't discern her face. He relaxed into the seat and breathed in contentedly, luxuriating in the smell of rubber and fumes. Go-karts were no motorbikes, but their closeness to the ground and their open cockpit at least helped make up for it. Nobody, not even Wilson, understood his fascination with such things. House could still remember the look of boredom on his father's face when he had tried to explain the intricacies of his new bike earlier this year. Motorbikes, wheels in general, gave him freedom. His leg had been mangled, but it didn't matter because these perfect machines compensated for his imperfect body. And now, though he was fixed, he still chased the satisfaction they offered.

Up ahead, he noticed Cameron running wide a little, but he was too far back to take advantage. She appeared to learn quickly, and the next couple of turns she nailed the apex and tore into the straights. Still, House gradually gained ground as his experience began to show. Cameron glanced quickly over her right shoulder and grinned at him. House stuck his tongue out and allowed her to lead into the hairpin. He feinted an overtake on her left and she instinctively moved to cover; then, he darted down the inside and ripped into the final stretch. He didn't release the accelerator until he passed the painted chequered strip on the tarmac, turning in his seat to see Cameron finish just a couple of lengths behind. She pulled up alongside him. "Wow, that was fun!", she exclaimed, eyes bright.

"Yep. You nearly got me there. We'll make a racer out of you yet".

Cameron laughed. "Yeah, well, I guess I jumped the gun a bit, huh?".

House shrugged. "Nothing wrong with a bit of harmless cheating in my book". They wheeled back round, this time using the end as a new starting point. "Round two?", he asked. Cameron only nodded, her face set with determination as they lined up. "OK. Three, two, one….GO!".

* * *

The two doctors handed in their helmet and gloves and left the track. "Well, I have to say that I was very impressed with your skill there, Camster", said House as they reached his motorbike. "You put up more of a fight than Wilson, and we've been coming here for ages".

Cameron inclined her head in acknowledgement and leant against the bike, beside the other. "What can I say, I'm a quick study. My boss is pretty demanding, so I've learnt to adapt quickly".

House chuckled, but he played along, content to let her take the initiative. "That boss of your sounds like a real piece of work. Did you say you were a doctor?".

The immunologist nodded, looking at the floor. "He is a challenge, that's for sure. But he needs to be, I think. His job, our job, is so fluid, so important, so frenetic, that standards can't be allowed to drop or people die". The man said nothing as he thought on her words. "But part of me thinks that the preservation of life argument is only a part of the equation for him", she continued.

House accepted his role in this exchange. "I'm no medical expert, but I'd think that a doctor's purpose is _only_ to save lives. What else is there?".

"The puzzle", she replied. "The kind of work we do, it's not normal medicine. We only get patients other doctors can't figure out. Most of them will be dead within a few days if we can't decipher their symptoms, come up with a diagnosis and treat it accordingly".

"Decipher? It sounds like you're more of a detective hunting for clues than a doctor", he grunted.

"Yes, exactly. We are hunting for clues, trying to solve the puzzle. I think this is what keeps my boss going more than anything - the quest for the perfect puzzle. I think the day he stops searching is the day that he stops hoping, maybe even stops living". Cameron ran a hand through her hair, though she didn't look at the other.

House, though, did turn towards the woman to his side. "He sounds like a complicated man. I bet you have a pretty interesting relationship with him".

Cameron met his gaze, a smile tugging at her lips. "Interesting is one way of putting it, yes. D'you wanna hear a secret...er, sorry, what was your name again?".

"Greg. And sure". House's eyes sparkled as he held out his hand.

"Hi, Greg. Allison", she replied, shaking his hand. "As I was saying: the truth is that I like my boss precisely _because_ he is complicated".

"You like him? Like, _like_ him, like him?".

"I do. Very much".

"Hmm. He must be a fair bit older than you, though. Wouldn't you be happier with someone your own age?". House looked straight into Cameron's eyes as he spoke, searching them for clues.

Cameron didn't turn away, allowing his blue eyes to roam her face. "He's older, yes, but I don't see this as a problem. I guess I'm old-fashioned, but I believe that, at root, any relationship is about attraction: be that physical, emotional, psychological, intellectual or whatever. As long as there is attraction, then age doesn't really come into it".

"And what attracts you to him?". House knitted his hands in his lap but maintained his gaze.

The immunologist tilted her head a little, thinking. "All of the above, I'd say", she answered after a few moments.

"And you believe that your boss can satisfy the bases of your attraction? It seems to me like you're asking quite a lot of the man".

"You're right, I am asking a lot, and I don't know yet if he can meet some or even any of my needs. What I know is that I've seen glimpses of it all in him and I want more than anything to explore the possibilities we might have together, whether it lasts a week, a month, a year, or longer".

"And what about _his_ needs? Can you meet _them_? He sounds like the kind of person who could be pretty demanding of a partner; the kind of person for whom 'normal' is nothing but emptiness." The diagnostician looked at the ground.

Cameron replied instantly, regarding the profile of the man at her side. "I don't know if I'll be able to satisfy his boundless curiosity. But I do know that I'm not frightened of his demanding nature; in fact, I'm counting on it. I just want a chance, a chance to see if I can be what he requires".

House said nothing for a time, digesting her words. "Hmm, well", he said finally, taking one of her hands in both of his, "I don't know this man, but I think he'd probably be up for that. I mean, let's be honest, you are absolutely gorgeous!". Cameron laughed and they shared a tender kiss. House broke off after a few moments. "This has been a fun first date. Thank you".

Cameron nuzzled her nose to his. "You don't need to thank me, House. We're in this together".

The diagnostician grinned and handed her the helmet. "Let's get some food. All that go-karting and now this chat? I'm famished". The immunologist nodded, fixed the helmet and hopped on, wrapping her arms tightly around the other and leaning against his back as the engine roared to life.


	24. Mind games

The following Wednesday Cameron was in the cafeteria eating lunch and snatching a few minutes' reading time before heading back to the lab. Their patient, an elderly former marine, had not responded to treatment and they were none the wiser as to his condition. House had even been forced to inspect the man in the flesh and he wasn't happy. In such situations, Cameron knew from long experience that it was best to follow what she had termed the Three Ks as regards her boss: Keep your head down; Keep your distance; Keep calm.

Friday's outing had gone very well, and in any other 'relationship', she'd be annoyed that her date had not followed up with a text over the weekend or perhaps even a conversation over their morning coffee come Monday. As it was, she freely accepted House's characteristic blend of disarming affection one day and distracted aloofness the next. He had given her no special treatment in the differential, and she had expected nothing less. It didn't stop her thinking about him all the same. Cameron took another bite of sandwich.

"Dr. Cameron? Do you mind if I join you?".

The immunologist looked up and smiled, closing her book. "Hi, Dr. Cuddy. Please". She gestured to the empty seat opposite. The other woman sank into it, placing her own tray on the table and taking a swig of water from the bottle. "That looks like an interesting sandwich", Cuddy observed.

Cameron nodded. "Turkey and stuffing with cranberry jelly. I was feeling festive over the weekend and decided to treat myself. There's nothing better than cold turkey sandwiches".

The Dean gazed forlornly at her own food – a garden salad with low sodium rye bread and a single slice of cheese. Cameron felt a burst of sympathy. "I'll share my second sandwich with you, if you want?".

"Oh, no. It's OK. I'm trying a new diet". Cuddy picked at the green leaves without enthusiasm.

"No offence, but I don't think you need a diet". Although the younger woman got on well with the big boss, they rarely spent time together alone, and she was careful not to stray too far into personal territory, in case the intrusion was not welcome.

Cuddy raised an eyebrow. "That's weird. House said the same thing to me last month. Well, not the exact same thing...".

"Let me guess: did it involve the size of your, ah, womanly assets in some way?".

The Dean laughed through a mouthful of watercress. "More or less". They ate in comfortable silence for a few moments. "How's your patient faring? I saw House briefly this morning and he looked a little perplexed".

Cameron finished her sandwiches and peeled a banana. "Yeah, it's a tricky one. We've had a few theories but as yet nothing's stuck, and the guy's liver's taking a pounding".

Cuddy nodded slowly. "Someone that age, a transplant's highly unlikely. Hopefully you figure it out sooner rather than later".

"We will. And if _we_ don't, House will". The immunologist smiled faintly before catching herself, mindful of company and the Dean's inquisitive gaze. Cameron knew that Wilson was aware of her and House's burgeoning relationship, but she had no idea about Cuddy. _Best to play it safe_.

"I don't doubt it", Cuddy commented, with what could only be described as an enigmatic grin. "House sure is something".

Cameron chewed her banana thoughtfully, unsure how to respond to that. Rather than say anything potentially incriminating, she decided to remain silent, until the conversation moved to firmer ground. The brunette vaguely recalled that House and Cuddy had once been in a relationship, and she had long looked on their easy back and forth with just a little jealousy, wishing that House was as comfortable in her company as he was in his boss'. Those two had known each other since before Cameron had arrived at PPTH, though, and she was probably being unfair to expect the same level of relaxed familiarity from him so soon after feelings had risen to the surface. In any case, things were gradually changing and, as with most things House-related, it paid to be patient. Cameron had always been in it for the long game, and she was more than happy to build the foundations for a lasting connection.

Cuddy, meanwhile, was impressed at her employee's poker face, and was beginning to fully appreciate Wilson's suggestion last month that House and Cameron were more alike than first believed. Like the former, the latter seemed to have a calculating self hidden beneath a calm exterior. Unfortunately for Cameron, however, Cuddy had a certain expertise when it came to interpreting Housian inscrutability. Not only this, but she of course knew all about their relationship and the circumstances of their Friday date; the go-kart idea bore the seal of her approval. Indeed, she had approached the other doctor precisely because she was interested in gathering intelligence. "I've always found House to be an interesting man", she said conversationally, slicing a little cheese onto her rye bread.

Cameron had a sudden flashback to her conversation with the man on Friday: _It sounds like you have a pretty interesting relationship with your boss_.

_Interesting is one way of putting it, yes_.

She replied similarly to Cuddy, unwilling to be drawn, unsure of the other's agenda.

The Dean felt a smile breaking across her face and hid it with a cough. _Cameron is good. But I'm better_. "Yeah, he is _very_ interesting", she continued. "Truth be told, and I'm only saying this because I just have to get it off my chest, I think he's pretty sexy". Cuddy took a sip of water, watching the other closely over the bottle rim.

This did cause a flash of emotion to cross Cameron's features, and she momentarily stopped blowing into her black coffee. Could it be that what she had believed to be merely harmless flirtation between House and his boss was in actual fact indicative of some deeper feeling? House, she was almost positive, harboured no such feelings towards Cuddy – the time Cameron and he had spent together had convinced her that he genuinely liked her. Still, if Cuddy _also_ liked him, and he got to know of it, how would that change things? The immunologist couldn't help comparing herself to the other woman instinctively: a larger bust, olive skin, a better job... _Wouldn't you be better off with someone your own age?_ House's words from Friday came back to her.

And yet, something was off. Cuddy had never before engaged Cameron in personal conversation, let alone asked to join her at lunch. The Dean had enquired casually after the current patient, but she had quickly turned the conversation to House. It was almost as if he was the reason for this impromptu visit which, upon closer inspection, wasn't so impromptu after all. Cameron looked suspiciously at the other doctor, though not without a glimmer of amusement. "Do you know something?".

Cuddy swallowed a mouthful of bread and cheese. "I may know something", she replied levelly.

The immunologist sat back and folded her arms, examining the woman across the table. "What do you know?".

"Well, as the Dean of this hospital, I know many things. But, for the sake of argument, let me say that, the thing that you think I may know, I do actually know. And, obviously, House knows that I know what I know. Wilson knows, too".

"I know that Wilson knows. I didn't know that you knew, nor that House knew that you knew".

"Well, we're all in the know". Cuddy finished her bread and brushed crumbs from her hands. "Though I assume the same can't be said for Chase and Foreman?".

"They both suspect but, as far as I...". Cameron was about to say 'know' again, but changed her word at the last minute, "...'m aware, they're still none the wiser. And we'd like to keep it that way for a while longer".

Cuddy nodded. "Understandable", she replied, piling her debris onto the tray. "I always got the impression that Chase had something for you". Cameron nodded imperceptibly but remained silent as the other continued: "obviously it's up to you how you want to play it, though I suspect that you may have to deal with Chase at some point, especially if this thing with House takes off".

The immunologist finished the banana and placed the skin on the tray. "Yes, you're probably right. I just hope Mathilde keeps him occupied for the foreseeable future, at least until House and I have had a chance to get our feet under the table".

Cuddy gave a soft noise of approval. "Well, I hope it works out. I've been in your corner for a while now, and I think you could be great together. Very few people really get House, but it seems you may be one of the few who do".

Cameron smiled. "Thanks. I'm just taking it one day at a time. He's a unique individual".

The other nodded again, but was suddenly serious. "Do you like him?".

"Yes, I like him". This was the easiest answer in their whole conversation.

The older woman looked thoughtful for a moment, but the response satisfied her and she rose from the seat, tray in hand. "I may check in with you every now and then. It's my professional responsibility to consider my employees' welfare, you understand".

Cameron laughed. "Of course, mistress", intentionally assuming House's term of affection for his boss. Cuddy smirked and moved away with a tilt of the head. But Cameron called out: "Dr. Cuddy? Do you really think House is sexy?".

The Dean turned around and answered immediately. "Yep! The eyes, the brain, the body – even administrators have imagination, y'know". She began to move off before turning back again. "But don't worry. That ship sailed a long time ago. He's all yours". Cameron chuckled, watching as Cuddy placed her tray on the rack and left the cafeteria with a wave and a grin.


	25. Speechless

By evening the next day, the marine was dead. He had deteriorated rapidly, and, despite the all-night efforts of House and his team, they had remained in the dark up until the end. The mood in the department was sombre as four exhausted doctors lay strewn across the office. The three fellows were seated at the glass table in dejection. House himself was looking out of the window, shoulders hunched, arms folded. They had all been in this situation before, of course. Not everyone could be saved.

"It may have been some sort of virus that doesn't show up in our tests", said Foreman. "Or some illness he picked up on an old tour that we didn't account for".

"Yeah, but we had no idea what viruses to target. He gave us a complete history, and we already checked it out. It can't have anything to do with his military career", Chase answered. The neurologist grunted and returned to looking at his hands on the table. "What do you think, Cameron?".

The immunologist sighed. "I think that I have absolutely no idea. What I do know is that we tried everything".

House turned suddenly. Without so much as a word he marched from the room, leaving his subordinates in stunned silence. "Should we go after him, or...?", Chase asked.

Foreman got up and pushed his chair under the table. "You can if you want, but I'm heading home to sleep. We did all we could, and if we get another patient tomorrow, we'll be better able to help them if we rest up and come in refreshed".

Chase sat back and considered the other's words. After a few moments he sighed and followed Foreman to the door. "You coming with us, Cameron?".

* * *

House jogged to the elevator and pressed the button, descending the floors in silence. In any other situation he would have found its gentle hum soothing. But not tonight. Tonight he was restless, dissatisfied, angry at his failure. He had thought everything through, had tried to contain the systematic failure in the man's organs, had worked through his list of priorities. Heart before lungs before liver before kidneys. Brain before them all. Nothing had worked. A man had died and he had absolutely no idea why.

The elevator dinged, reaching an area of the hospital he rarely entered. The morgue. Outside of regular hours, the morgue wasn't staffed, since it was assumed that dead bodies could wait until the morning; they _could_ wait until morning, but House couldn't. He had to know. Technically, what he was about to do could get him into serious trouble and he had purposely not told the others of his plan. Doctors were expressly forbidden from carrying out autopsies.

House, however, had a different view. A doctor's responsibility was to his patient. The old marine had been his patient in life and was still in death. Cameron had said that they'd tried everything, but it wasn't quite so. _This_ was trying everything; and if Cuddy boxed his ears or threatened triple clinic duty, so be it. If he found out what had caused this man's death, maybe he could prevent it from slipping through his net in the future. And it would give him a measure of satisfaction, hollow though it may be.

The diagnostician scrubbed up, located the marine's corpse and shuttled it to a table, fixing the lights and assembling his array of tools. Satisfied that everything was in position he set to work, moving deliberately and carefully, scalpels and saws flashing in the light. He had to check everything in this man's body. Somewhere there was a clue that they had missed or, if Foreman was right, hadn't shown up in their scans.

As House progressed, he felt a sense of calm settle. This was how the ancient medical practitioners like Galen and Herophilus had tested their theories and advanced understanding. Modern medicine had made leaps and bounds, and nowadays there were machines, tests and scans for everything. The human body was no longer a mystery. Though this was of course a welcome development, it had the unfortunate consequence of reducing physicians to mere analysers of numbers and lines on banks of screens. Technology had inserted itself between a doctor and his patient. Every now and then, House thought, it was useful to return to the roots of the profession. Data could be manipulated but the body, laid bare before the eyes of an inquisitive professional, never lies.

House inspected the heart carefully, checking for tell-tale signs of malformation or thickening. He reached over to the tray and fumbled around for a clip, unable to locate it. Suddenly he felt a hand on his arm. He looked across in surprise and saw Cameron's eyes above the surgical mask and beneath the blue of her hair cap. She handed him his tool without a word. He looked at her questioningly – they shouldn't be down here, but he at least had the job security afforded by tenure. Cameron had no such thing and was running a considerable risk. He couldn't ask her to jeopardise her position in aid of his insane quest for closure. But the immunologist sensed his uncertainty and shook her head slightly but firmly. House went back to his task, the woman beside him a reassuring presence, a partner in his crime for seeking complete knowledge.

They worked this way for over two hours: House methodically progressing through a checklist that only he knew, occasionally handing organs to his assistant to weigh or inspect, or turning to her for this or that tool, or gesturing for her to change the angle of the light. Scarcely a word passed between them as they were consumed by the task ahead. Sometimes House would look hopefully to Cameron as she returned from the scales or the microscope, but every time she would shake her head and he would return to the cadaver on the table, the silent witness to whatever had caused its owner's death.

The pair checked every corner of their patient. Every scrap of tissue and bone lingered at one time or other under the diagnostician's restless gaze. They must have missed something. There was no other explanation. The answer was here. But as time passed and less of the body remained to be explored, House began to lose hope. At length he handed back his scalpel and didn't reach out for another. There was nothing more to examine. He stood hunched over his handiwork, unable to fathom his defeat. Cameron remained quiet, placing a hand on his forearm. House looked up eventually. His eyes swam in perplexity, anger and sorrow. Patients died every day, but even those that did at least surrendered some clues as to their demise. The old marine had been stubborn in life and was even more so in death. This puzzle would remain unsolved.

Cameron witnessed the conflict of the other play out on his face. No words from her could allay the man's tortured restlessness, so she brought her other hand to rest over his and said nothing to break the silence. The pair remained this way for a few moments until House looked up again into the green eyes of his companion. He saw understanding and strength. The diagnostician nodded imperceptibly. There was only one thing left to do. He held out his hands and Cameron passed over the organs they'd removed, one by one. House carefully replaced each in the cavity of the man's chest, ensuring that he left the body as he'd found it. Satisfied that this was done, the immunologist helped him stitch up the incisions that he'd made two hours earlier.

They replaced the marine carefully onto the shelf and returned him to the sanctuary of his refrigerated unit. Then, side by side, they set about clearing up the evidence of their activity. If someone wanted to prove they had been there, it would take them a while. Every surface and blade was scrubbed clean and returned to a glistening finish. The two doctors stood back and observed the fruits of their labour. They glanced at each other in mutual appreciation of a job finished if not complete – no answers had been found and so, by this one measure alone, it had been a wasted evening.

House and Cameron left the morgue in silence. Only the clock, ticking mournfully on the wall, bore witness to their endeavour and their failure.


	26. Helping hand

Following the loss of their patient, Cuddy gave the diagnosticians light duties only and refrained from foisting another case on them so soon. If pressed, she would admit to preferential treatment. After all, doctors lost patients every single day but still had to come into work and get on with the job. In defence, she could point to mitigating circumstances: only a couple of months ago these doctors had witnessed an attempted murder, had in point of fact been threatened with death themselves. It was her duty to ensure that they weren't pushed too hard too soon; she had only recently signed off on their psychiatric reports. A lighter touch was necessary, and she saw no reason to rush House either – he was a sports car and you didn't use sports cars to do the school run. If he needed a little time to recover, she would grant it. She turned a blind eye to his guitar playing and TV watching in the office.

The fellows were using the enforced pause in their own way. Chase had spent a few days on the surgical rotation, taking the opportunity to revise skills he'd not employed since returning to work following the shooting. Foreman, meanwhile, was co-running a drug trial with a colleague in neurology. This meant that Cameron had the office to herself for large portions of the day and she needed no second invitation to spend the time developing her article. Progress was solid if not spectacular, but with a bit of hard work she knew that things would pick up as she got more of her argument down on paper. The strumming of House's guitar through the glass partition was, depending on her mood in that particular moment, either reassuring or annoying. But she took comfort in his proximity nonetheless, allowing him space to overcome his malaise.

The following Thursday she was working at the conference table, buried in piles of paper and weighty reference books. She had discovered that one strand of her argument was too sparsely sourced and needed more support. Ordinarily this would be no problem, but in her caffeine-induced haze she had misplaced her scribblings for that subsection and was frantically attempting to piece together the blocks from memory. She was too caught up in a self-perpetuating cyclone of tension to notice the dividing door between the two offices open. "Well, hello there". House had an amused look on his face as he leant against the glass and observed the immunologist.

"Not a good time, House". Cameron barely glanced up as she shuffled through papers in a seemingly random order, attempting to find some elusive document that only she knew existed. Her arms were a whirl of activity as she lifted books, pens, pages and laptops in a futile effort, succeeding only in knocking over her fresh cup of coffee. Though it missed her work, it spilled over the table and dripped steadily onto the carpet. "Oh, _fuck_ ", she exclaimed.

"Cameron...", House said softly, though the other didn't hear him as she hurriedly made to mop up the black liquid with a few crumpled tissues from her pocket.

"Cameron!". This did get her attention, and she looked up, startled into stillness. The diagnostician couldn't help but take a second to appreciate her beauty, even in this moment of stress. Her light brown hair was wild, and long strands had escaped her band and lay strewn at strange angles, framing her face, which bore no trace of makeup; her eyes were bright behind the lenses of her glasses; and her mouth was open in surprise at House's tone, such that he could make out her regular white teeth behind the fullness of her lips. House swallowed and regathered himself. "Stand up and come here".

"But the coffee...", said Cameron, gesturing towards the slowly expanding pool on the table, "the carpet...".

"Forget about the carpet. It's soaked up its fair share of my blood. I think it can take your coffee. Come here", he reiterated softly but firmly, holding out a hand.

The immunologist did as asked and walked towards her boss, frazzled expression softening as she approached. House pulled her into a deep embrace, nuzzling her hair. "You looked like you needed a hug", he said. Cameron mumbled incomprehensibly into his shirt. "Yes, I totally agree with you", House replied, "the Pats _are_ carried by Brady and Belichick".

Cameron laughed but said nothing, allowing herself to sink into House's arms, to enjoy the sensation of warmth and protection his body offered. They hadn't spoken since just after their self-set assignment in the morgue. She knew that he was a man who dealt with failure in his own way, who would bury himself in his television and his guitar to get over a puzzle left unsolved. She would be there if he needed her, but otherwise she had maintained her distance, unwilling to push things. The question of a second date hadn't arisen. Not yet, anyway.

"I've always been more of an Eagles fan myself", Cameron said after a few moments.

"Shhh, shhh, that stress must have addled your brain. Just relax, we're OK, we're OK".

The immunologist pulled back and rested her fists against his chest. "Hey, I'm serious!".

House laughed and looked down into her eyes. "I thought you didn't like sports".

"Actually, I don't like sports metaphors. I don't mind sports every now and then in moderation".

"Well", he said after a moment's thought, "I suppose it's better than nothing". He kissed her nose affectionately. "But why on earth do you like the Eagles? You're from Chicago".

"How do you know I'm from Chicago?", Cameron asked, smiling.

"Uhhh, your accent? Ahnest ta Gahd, dough" [honest to God, though].

She punched his chest softly, though she couldn't prevent a grin. "Oh, come on, it's not that bad. I think I've done a pretty good job training myself out of it".

"If you say so. I think it's adorable, anyway". House's voice dropped lower, as did his hands, which moved to her ass. "So why do you like Philadelphia?".

Cameron smirked and placed her hands on his chest in such a way that her thumbs rested between the buttons of his shirt, on his bare skin. "Why do you like cricket?".

"Answering a question with another question is a sure way to lose some fingers, Cameron". House pulled her closer, his face millimetres from hers.

Cameron brought a hand to his lips. "These fingers? It'd be your loss, that's for sure. You've not seen what I can do with my fingers yet, House". Her voice was husky.

"Nor you mine", House murmured, bringing his own hands up to grasp hers. His long fingers completely engulfed her own and he kissed each one softly. Cameron watched, taking shallow breaths, feeling the scratchiness of his stubble and the moisture of his tongue. "We need to decide on date number two, Dr. Cameron".

"Ye-", Cameron began, but her voice was thick and she had to clear her throat. "Yes", she tried again.

"Tomorrow?".

"Yes".

"Good. Seeing as I organised the last one, it's your turn now. Dazzle me".

The immunologist laughed. "I've never planned a date before". House raised an eyebrow. "What?", she said. "Guys like to entertain me, and I like being entertained. It's a win-win if you really think about it".

"Well, it's time you took off your training wheels. This is 21st century America, Cameron. You define your gender, not the other way around. Female empowerment and all that". House's eyes flashed as he spoke.

"OK, OK, but you haven't given me long to prepare...". Cameron's eyes glazed as she thought through her options, tapping a finger to her lips. House loved these little mannerisms of hers. He had missed her during his self-imposed exile, but he needed time away to process his failure, to quieten his rebellious mind which accepted an unsolved puzzle only with great difficulty. In such moments, House had reflected, his brain controlled him, not the other way around. "What do you like?", she asked.

"Nope, sorry. I want you to pick something that _you_ like. I'm having zero input". In truth, House had long planned to observe Cameron in her own setting away from work, away from everyone else, even away from him, in a way. Every time they had met or got close it had been on House's terms: in his office, on his bike, in his chair, on his date. House had had control. At work this was fine because he was her boss. But if they were to be partners outside of the hospital, they needed to _be_ partners, not superior and subordinate. Cuddy had observed that House attracted strong women, and he needed Cameron to be as strong as he believed her to be. The diagnostician knew himself to have a powerful personality. He needed his partner to be similarly powerful, else he would break her. And that would do no good for anyone.

"Alright. I'll think about it and let you know tomorrow, OK?".

"Sounds good". House suddenly kissed her hard, entwining one hand in her hair while the other caressed her cheek. Cameron overcame her initial shock and responded forcefully, both hands on his face. "What was that for?", she whispered after they broke apart.

"Helping me in the morgue", he murmured.

"If you're going to kiss me like that every time I give you a helping hand maybe I'll do it more often", she smiled.

"Fine by me". House pulled her into another hug, burying his face in her hair and looking over her shoulder at the papers and spilt coffee on the desk. "What are you working on?", he asked.

Cameron released him with a sigh and turned back to the table. "My paper based off the Sjögren's syndrome case we solved a couple of weeks back. It's proving difficult". The immunologist began wiping the table and carpet in an effort to prevent further staining.

"Don't bother about the carpet. It's a lost cause". House sat down and started browsing through the papers. "This article, however, can still be saved. Do you want a hand?".

"Umm, yeah. Yeah, I think I do". Cameron had stopped mopping up and straightened, a hand on her hip, staring at the other sitting in the chair.

House glanced up. "Why are you looking at me like that? You're weirding me out".

"It's just that the last time I gave you a paper to evaluate it sat on your desk for months and Foreman published it instead".

"Yeah, well, I like you now, so…". House trailed off, lost in reading.

"Huh. If I'd known that that was all it took, I'd have seduced you sooner". Cameron wandered over to sit on the table.

House scoffed, but his gaze was fixed on the laptop screen, analysing her sources. "Just don't tell Chase. I'm not sure I'll be able to keep my hands off him if he wears those short shorts to work tomorrow. If I'm willing to help _you_ with your article, and you aren't even wearing a tight top and low-rider jeans, who knows what I'll grant him in those babies?".

Cameron laughed, but her next words were delivered in a low whisper, as she hopped from the table to crouch beside him. "Would you like me to wear those, Dr. House?".

House grinned, still looking at the screen. "I am immune to your charms, madam. My will is iron".

"That's unfortunate". Cameron raised an eyebrow. "Iron is incredibly hard". She trailed a hand up his thigh. "Very hard indeed".

House reached down and took hold of her hand before it could complete its journey. "You know what else is very hard, Cameron?", he growled.

"What?", she whispered, leaning forwards slightly, breathing in his distinctive muskiness.

"Your argument here, to read, in this section". House pointed at the screen. "Sit. Let's turn this thing into something worthy of my department".

Cameron exhaled loudly, and the flutters in her chest died away. Nevertheless, she pulled up a chair, her thwarted desire soon forgotten as she listened intently to the words of the other. 


	27. Ignorance is not bliss

The following night Chase had just finished a routine appendectomy and was removing his scrubs and heading to the locker room. Before he could think about clocking off, though, he was paged to meet with the Head of Surgery, Dr. Wildermuth, in whose office he now found himself. "Thanks for helping out this week, Robert. You have a real eye for surgical work, and we'll be sorry to see you return to Diagnostics".

Chase smiled and ran a hand through his hair. "No problem at all, Larry. It was good to get my hands dirty for a time. I suppose I'll always be a surgeon at heart".

Wildermuth sat back in his chair and rested his glasses on the desk. "Well, if you ever want to make the switch permanently, I'd snap you up in an instant".

"Thanks for the offer but I'm quite enjoying my current role".

"You've been bitten by the House bug too, eh? Look, I know he's your boss but if it were up to me, he'd have far less leeway. We can't have doctors running around playing God. Cuddy is much too easy on him for my taste".

Chase shrugged, showing that he respected the man's opinion but that he was unwilling to participate in badmouthing the Head of Diagnostics. As he had remarked to Foreman, he had nothing against House personally; it was just his effect on Cameron that he had an issue with. The intensivist was self-aware enough to recognise that much of his anger towards the man was as a result of his own feelings for the beautiful brunette. Mathilde had been a useful diversion, but the novelty was beginning to wear off. If Foreman was right and the two were now together, he wasn't sure how he would react. Perhaps he would be able to play it cool and wait for the relationship to implode as he was sure it would. Perhaps...

"...sleeping together", Wildermuth said.

"Huh?". Chase snapped back to reality. "Sorry, what did you say?".

"I said I wonder if House and Cuddy are sleeping together".

"Oh. Nah, I think they're just friends". The Australian began to move to the door, unwilling to explore the intricacies of House's sex life with someone he barely knew. Frankly, the topic was something he tried not to dwell on at all.

But Wildermuth was unfazed and was willing to pursue his pet theme. "I could've sworn I saw them arrive together on his bike a couple of weeks back. They were quite far away, though, so it may have been someone else with long dark hair".

Chase shrugged his shoulders, though his mind was turning. Cameron's car had been out of commission a couple of weeks ago and Foreman had been bringing her to work; but there had been a day when the neurologist had turned up late, after Cameron. If _House_ had given her a lift it either meant that he had done so out of the goodness of his heart or, more likely, that they were an item. The thought made him both sad and angry. 'Playing it cool' would be easier said than done. "Well, if that's all, Larry, I'd best make tracks. I'd forgotten how much surgery can take it out of you".

"Oh, of course. Thanks again, Robert, and remember that my door's always open". But Chase barely heard him as he left the room.

* * *

"Come in". Wilson glanced up to greet his visitor, who entered and approached his desk. "Ah, Dr. Chase. What brings you to my neck of the woods this evening? I was just about to leave so you've caught me just in time".

"Hi, Dr. Wilson, sorry to disturb you. I, ah…". The intensivist paused, uncertain if he was doing the right thing. It was no business of his if House and Cameron were together. But he had to know, one way or the other. There had been no one in Diagnostics and Wilson was his only option.

"Are you OK?", Wilson asked, shepherding the other towards the couch. The oncologist had dealt with House enough times to recognise a man in torment when he saw one.

"I'm fine, I…". Chase suddenly realised that he was talking to the doctor whom he had beaten to Mathilde's affection. Wilson was a decent man, though, and had already gallantly conceded. The Australian looked into his colleague's kindly brown eyes and decided to be open. "Actually, I'm not fine. At least, I don't think I am. I'm sorry to come to you but, as you know, House isn't really a feelings kind of guy, and I can't find Foreman…".

Wilson held up a hand. "Fire away. What's up?".

Chase ran a hand through his hair. It was now or never. "Do you know if House and Cameron are together? Only Foreman seems to think so, and I've just heard some things from Wildermuth…I mean, it's fine if they are but…I'd just like to know".

Wilson sat back. The question had taken him by surprise. He had no idea that House and Cameron had kept their dalliance secret from the other diagnosticians; nor was he aware of the intensivist's latent feelings. All the same, it wasn't Wilson's place to divulge information that his friend had decided to keep hidden. House, he was sure, had still not forgiven him for revealing the hallucination to _Cuddy_ , and _they_ were friends. "I try to steer clear of discussing House's love life, Chase", he said carefully.

"I understand that. And I'm not asking for any details". Chase folded his arms. "I'd just like to know", he repeated.

"Why?". Wilson looked into the other's pale eyes, searching them.

Chase sighed, conflicted. He wanted to stay out of it, but he also didn't; he wanted to be completely honest with Wilson, but he knew he couldn't. "Look, this may be hard for you to hear, but I'm convinced that if they are together, it'll end in tears. And when that happens, our department will become very difficult to maintain. House isn't right for Cameron. I'm sorry, I know he's your friend, but it's just what I believe".

"You seem to have given this a lot of thought", the oncologist said slowly.

"Cameron's my friend and I suppose House is too, in a way. I don't want to see them get hurt". Chase looked at the floor as he spoke. What he'd said was true. It just wasn't the whole truth. But there was no way he could confess to the other his desire for the brunette.

"Well, regardless, it's not my place to comment on whether or not House and Cameron are an item. I realised very early on that there are some lines I don't cross with House. This isn't a schoolyard. We're all adults, and if you want more information, you're better off going to see them personally".

The intensivist nodded and rose to his feet. "Fair enough. I'll speak to them".

Wilson sighed as he realised Chase's true reason for asking. His eyes softened as he remembered House's own torture coming to terms with his attraction. The difference was that Cameron liked him back. The same couldn't be said for Chase. "Look. My advice to you is to give it a week. Figure out why you want to know; figure out how you feel; figure out…if Mathilde is enough".

The Australian, who had his hand on the doorknob, looked back sharply. Were his feelings really that transparent? "I will. Thanks, Wilson". With that, he left the office.

The oncologist leant back in his chair while he considered his options, tapping his fingers on the desk. He thought back to the time recently when House had stood by that window. The man had looked out on to the sun-drenched banks and all but admitted his…what? Love? Wilson scoffed. It was probably too early to talk of House loving Cameron. Still, the diagnostician cared for her, and she for him. Of that, Wilson was certain. And now Chase wanted to make himself heard.

This was a tricky situation. What happened to the old days, when House cared for no one but himself? _How much simpler things were_ , he thought. The would-be assassin had changed more than House's leg; he had changed his entire outlook on life; his outlook on her. And, true to form, James Wilson was stuck in the middle. He briefly wondered how many other oncologists in hospitals up and down the country were dealing with similar issues. Very few, he imagined. There was only one Gregory House and, it seemed, only one Allison Cameron.

There was also only one course of action. Wilson sighed and reached for his phone, quickly typing out and sending a message.

_Chase is asking questions about you two._

Wilson didn't know how his friend would react to the news. What he did know was that the preliminary skirmishes were over. This would either be the beginning of the end of House and Cameron or, much more positively, simply the end of the beginning. Only time would tell.

The oncologist switched off his computer and shrugged into his coat, closing and locking his office door before trudging down the beige corridors and out into the Princeton gloom.


	28. Unexpected discoveries (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot spoilers for George Orwell's _1984_ ahead. If you haven't read it, you really should. Since this is the second date, and since I love writing romance, it's a two-parter.

House was sat in his armchair reading the paper and sipping a beer while he waited for Cameron to pick him up for their second date. She had remained mysteriously tight-lipped about her plans for the evening, saying only that he was to dress smartly and be ready at 6 p.m. House had rolled his eyes but was secretly intrigued. The fact was that he knew very little about the woman. She was from Chicago, but aside from a passing mention of an aunt upstate, he knew nothing about her family. As for her hobbies, he had learnt that she liked reading and exercise. That was it. Tonight was therefore something of a fact-finding mission.

Still, he couldn't reduce the whole thing to an intellectual enquiry. Their previous date, their closeness over the past couple of weeks, had been surprisingly enjoyable. There had been no awkwardness, and she hadn't attempted to push him into escalating things. It had been so long since he'd actually dated someone, and he was finding the experience rewarding. He was content to let things simmer for now, though he had to admit that he was looking forward to enjoying Cameron fully. House had learnt early on that he was a man who could not long do without the pleasures of the female body, and since things had developed with the immunologist, he had refrained from calling on his usual girls. The monotony of monogamy was a necessary evil that would, hopefully, pay dividends soon enough. House scratched his neck absentmindedly, the collar of the starched white shirt uncomfortably stiff.

There was a knock at the door. House folded up his paper and set his half empty beer bottle on the coffee table before ambling over to the door and opening it. Cameron looked ravishing. "Hello", House managed, stepping aside to let her into his apartment.

"Hi", she replied lightly, wandering passed him, close enough to fill his nostrils with her subtle perfume. House breathed in deeply, still facing out into the empty corridor, attempting to compose himself. "You're wearing the red dress", he said softly.

Cameron left House by the still-open door and made a slow circuit of the living room, pretending to ignore his heightened reaction by looking around. "Yeah, well, I've not worn it for a while, so I figured: why not?". She strolled past the coffee table, picking up the beer, before reaching his bookcase. She took a swig and examined the spines as she heard the door close, and House make his way over to stand behind her. "You don't have as many medical books as I was expecting", she observed.

The diagnostician wrapped his arms around the brunette and looked over her shoulder at the shelves. "I have a few, though I keep them in the corridor".

Cameron said nothing and continued her exploration, running her finger over various titles. As she had imagined, his taste was eclectic. Most seemed to be non-fiction, though there were a few science fiction novels and, of course, the complete works of Arthur Conan Doyle. George Orwell also made frequent appearance. She stopped at _1984_. "I haven't read this for a long time".

"One of my favourites".

"I wonder why?", Cameron smiled. "Idiosyncratic, socially awkward middle-aged man fights tooth and nail against the higher-ups and the system, desperate to retain his individuality amidst crushing conformity".

House grinned. "More or less".

The immunologist leant back into House's chest. "And, if I recall correctly, our protagonist falls in love with a younger co-worker and they carry on a torrid affair unbeknown to their colleagues".

"Mmm. That's about right", the other murmured, brushing her ear with his lips.

Cameron placed the beer on a shelf and turned around suddenly, looking up into the man's eyes. "But at the end of that book, Big Brother wins. Our two lovers are broken, betrayed, and they barely recognise the face of the other in the crowd. The memory of their time together fades, like it never existed".

House met her gaze and nodded slowly. "You're right. That does happen in the book, by the end. But before that, the time they share is the happiest of their lives".

"But what if this ends at some point in the future? Will you forget me? Will I become just another face in the crowd?". Cameron's voice was low, and her eyes revealed a touching vulnerability that softened House's heart. He brought a hand up to her cheek and her lashes fluttered. "I don't think I'll ever forget this face, Cameron. Not anymore".

The young doctor smiled and nuzzled his hand. "So, we're agreed. Big Brother's not going to break us".

"Agreed". House nodded sternly, though with a grunt of amusement.

"Shall we pinky swear?".

"We could". The diagnostician thought about it for a moment. "Or I could just kiss you hard and that could stand as our oath of allegiance".

"Oh". Cameron also thought about it. "OK, let's do that instead-". She had barely finished her sentence before House's lips overwhelmed her own. His body pressed forwards, forcing her back into the bookcase. She released a whimper and brought a hand up to his stubbled cheek; the other slipped to the open buttons of his shirt and the soft hairs of his upper chest. House could feel her breasts against his torso. One hand held her tightly by her bare shoulders, while the other slipped to her ass, kneading it through the fabric of her dress. "You're not wearing underwear", he observed between kisses.

"I am", Cameron whispered as she nibbled his lip. "You just, ah, won't be able to feel it". This caused House to growl and he planted kisses and bites along her jaw and neck, the woman leaning back to give him access, delighting in the sensation of his stubble and tongue against her skin. She loved the way she could make her usually restrained boss lose control. For so long Cameron had considered him cold and heartless. She was beginning to realise that she couldn't have been further from the truth: beneath the icy exterior was a hot-blooded, powerful _man_. And she would bring that man to the surface if it was the last thing she did.

After many minutes, the two broke apart slowly, the passion gradually reduced to embers. Cameron placed her hands on House's chest and looked up. His normally bright eyes returned an inky blackness and her position against the bookcase enhanced his height such that he towered over her. Not for the first time since he had resumed at Diagnostics, she thought he resembled a big cat or some other apex predator. "You look like you want to eat me, Dr. House", she said, eyebrow raised.

"I do want to eat you, Dr. Cameron. Sooner or later, I will taste every square centimetre of your body. And, after I've done that…".

Cameron's mouth was dry, taken off guard by his sudden turn to sexual talk. She tried swallowing in a vain attempt to moisten her throat. "'After you've done that' what?".

House smirked. "Well, you'll just have to find out, won't you?". He stepped away, but not before kissing her nose in a way that was becoming increasingly familiar to Cameron, and she wrinkled it reflexively. "You keep doing that". She had her hands in his blazer pockets, preventing him from moving too far.

"Keep doing what?".

"Kissing my nose".

House shrugged. "I suppose I do, yes. You don't like it?".

"I like it. I just want to know why you do it". Cameron imagined that she would get to experience a few other House-isms before their time was done. The anticipation made her shiver, probably because she had never seen him display his affection so openly. The real thrill was that his affection was directed at her.

"I think you have a beautiful nose, and whenever I kiss you there you wrinkle it adorably".

"Huh". Cameron tilted her head to the side and regarded the man before her for a moment or two.

House gave her a confused look. "Now what?".

"You, sir, are a _hopeless_ romantic!". Cameron laughed. "I can't believe it. All the hookers, all the girlfriends, all the acid comments and ironic eye rolls. Dr. Gregory House is a romantic!".

"I am not", House replied, attempting to release himself half-heartedly from her grip.

But Cameron held tight and continued as if she hadn't heard him, lost in a train of thought. "Things are starting to make sense – now I know why you got me a gift at Café Spoleto, why you helped me at go-karting, why you keep offering me lifts, why we haven't slept together yet". The brunette's eyes were alight with mischief as she punctuated each of her next words with a prod of his chest. "You. Are. A. _Gentleman_!".

House attempted to maintain a look of mild irritation but the woman's joy at this discovery was so genuine that it was hard not to smile. "If you poke me again, I'll bite your finger".

"Nah, you won't. You're too much of a gentleman for that. But don't worry, House, your secret is safe with me". Cameron rose up on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear: "I won't tell anyone that you're really a lovely human being".

House gripped her waist in both his hands. "I'm not a lovely human being, Cameron. Truly".

The immunologist considered his words, aware of the man's seriousness. "Perhaps you're right. I know only what you've shown me, so my investigations are, as yet, incomplete".

"I could say the same thing about you", he replied with a wink.

The young doctor moved her hands over his, which had remained at her waist. "It seems we're both running at an information deficit, Dr. House".

A half smile tugged at the diagnostician's lips. Of course, one of the reasons he'd insisted on her organising this date was so he could learn more about her, gain an insight into her life, rather than just her career. It was something of a relief, not to mention a bit of a turn on, that Cameron had already perceived what he wanted. His attraction to her had always been physical – it was her body that had inhabited first his hallucination, and now increasingly his dreams; but recently it had been the intangibles that drew his attention: her intellect, her wit, her confidence not just in herself but in them as a couple. Since their head to head in the office, her seemingly unshakeable belief in a relationship had been as endearing as it was reassuring.

Cameron, for her part, studied the other's face. She knew that House had kept her guessing: maintaining distance some days; seeking her out on others, refusing to give her too many details into his personal life. This was typical House behaviour and entirely to be expected. And yet, she had also done similar to _him_. There was a reason for this, she knew. It was a self-defence mechanism. Ever since she had sat at her table in the dead of night drinking hot chocolate, she had known to be careful, to take it one day at a time. The depth of her feeling for House scared her. But precisely because it scared her, she knew she couldn't be reckless – there was too much at risk. If she committed herself too hastily, if she demolished too soon the barriers around herself, there was a real chance of permanent damage if things between them fell through. Cameron was convinced that they belonged together, but she was equally as sure that her heart couldn't withstand a House-sized hole. A gradual escalation of intimacy was the best policy, and she said as much to the man before her.

"An escalation of intimacy is an interesting proposal". House ran his hands up the brunette's sides, placing them on her bare shoulders.

"And what form should that escalation take, huh?". Cameron asked, enjoying the sensation of House's hands on her skin.

"Well, we could…". The diagnostician bent his head to whisper in her ear, and his words caused her heart to beat faster and brought an immediate flush to her cheeks. She grasped his arms reflexively. "But I think before we do _that_ , we should do _this_ ", House continued, whispering his idea in her other ear.

Cameron smiled as she listened. "Well, you weren't kidding. That _is_ an escalation".

"Yep". House pulled back and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "What say you, Lady Cameron?".

"I say 'aye', Lord House. We'll each think of a personal question to ask the other before our next date and, no matter what it is, we have to answer". In a way, the immunologist knew that this suggestion was even more significant than the development of a physical aspect to their hitherto chaste relationship. She imagined that sex to House was just that: sex. Beyond the biology involved, and the simple joy of its consummation, it was a straightforward act which need not entail an emotional connection. But House was offering a ticket into his consciousness, was willingly allowing her to puncture his protective shell, if only for one question. She of course would need to do the same, but this was acceptable. _Like an equation, things would balance themselves out. But only if both parties enter data_. Cameron smiled, relieved that her recent insight had been proven correct.

House read her smile as further confirmation. "It's settled, then?".

Cameron nodded. "It's settled".

"Good. So where are we going for our date? Because I know you have more planned than 'hanging around in my apartment'".

Cameron chuckled and gave him an affectionate pat on the cheek. "I sure do. Let's go, buster". She waited by the door as he retrieved his jacket and keys. Satisfied that he had everything, House left the apartment and locked the door before following Cameron to her car and their next date.


	29. Unexpected discoveries (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that we're getting into date things and personal stuff, I thought it might be useful to explain my thinking regarding Cameron especially. If you're not interested, or you fear it'll ruin your fanfic immersion, feel free to skip to the chapter.
> 
> Cameron is one of the only characters in all of House who gets next to no backstory development. We get Cuddy's family, Wilson's brother, Chase's dad and childhood, Foreman's brother, parents and childhood, Taub's wife and kids, Thirteen's disease and brother, even Park's parents. Cameron gets virtually nothing. We never see her parents, her family (though she has an older brother mentioned briefly in season 3), or her interests (beyond the fact that she reads a book at home and runs in season 1). Beyond her Chicago roots, we have no idea what her background is, nor what her hobbies are. She is reduced in the later seasons to 'Chase's girlfriend and wife'. Not great, really, and one of the reasons why I prefer earlier to later House.
> 
> Consequently, it has been hard to find things that Cameron might like to do when she isn't working. I try and avoid making up characters or hobbies out of the blue, but with Cameron there is little choice, and there's a good chance my interpretation of Cameron will differ from your own. Going forward, I'm probably going to borrow some details from Jennifer Morrison herself to flesh Cameron out. Apparently, JMo's dad was a music teacher, and she was a decent clarinet player in her youth. Hence this chapter. 

"So where are we going, and why on earth have you forced me into this penguin suit?". House had noticed that Cameron hadn't given him an answer back in his apartment.

Cameron glanced across at her passenger. House could complain that the suit made him uncomfortable, but she thought he looked incredibly dashing. She had purposely worn the red dress, and stipulated that he wear something equally formal, because she had wanted an excuse to recreate the circumstances of the hospital poker evening last year. She had taken his breath away then, in front of Foreman and Chase. What he didn't know was that he had taken away hers as well: the tuxedo fitting his long limbs snugly, but not impairing his graceful movements; his grey-tinged hair, tamed somewhat, catching the light as he worked at the whiteboard. Cameron supposed that her decision to accompany him to monster trucks had been the seed of their situation. But that moment of mutual attraction during the poker evening had been the impetus.

"Hello? Are you gonna tell me?". House folded his arms and looked at her, oblivious to the turning of his date's mind.

Cameron could see his posture in her peripheral vision but remained looking at the road. "I _could_. But I won't".

House scoffed. "God, are you ever gonna let me live that one down?".

The woman winked in his direction. "Nope".

"Just give me a clue. Come on, you know how much I have to know stuff. Don't do this to me".

The immunologist considered his words briefly. "OK", she relented. "It involves music".

"Damn, you're not taking me to a club, are you? Because if you are, I'm tucking and rolling right now". Cameron looked at him incredulously. "I mean it. Don't think I won't", he said, hand on the door.

"Oh, I believe you, House". They drove in silence for a few moments. "What kind of clubs do you know where the women wear long red dresses and the men full suits and boots?", she asked conversationally.

"The stupid kind", House muttered under his breath.

"I thought so". Cameron smiled sweetly at him.

"So what kind of music is it?". House turned fully in his seat to look at his driver.

She sighed. "Y'know, a normal person would just accept a surprise and wait and see".

"A normal person would do that", House conceded. "Then again, a normal person would also tell her companion where she was taking him without being mysterious".

The immunologist had to accept that he had a point. "If I tell you, you have to promise not to kick up a fuss. You said I could pick the date, and I have. If you don't like it, you'll have to live with it". House raised an eyebrow but nevertheless clasped his hands together in a gesture of supplication, before turning to face forwards. Cameron took a deep breath. "We're going to a clarinet recital". She risked a glance towards the other's profile. His expression was unreadable. "Well?", she spoke after a few moments. "No sarcastic comment? Should I prepare for your tuck and roll?".

House snorted, but his voice was quiet. "You don't need to worry".

"Good, because I'd have a hell of a job closing the door after you".

"No, you don't understand". The diagnostician once again turned towards her. "You don't need to _worry_. About anything." House had realised suddenly that years of sniping comments and ironic put-downs had made her unsure of herself, automatically defensive. This had been her date suggestion and rather than looking forward to it she had been fretting. It would take time to repair the damage, but now was as good a time as any to start. "What I mean is, I don't want you to worry about what I think, away from the hospital. I'd much rather you be yourself, doing the things you enjoy, unapologetically and straightforwardly. That's what I'm going to be doing in this relationship anyway…what?". House had stopped, looking at the other's raised hand.

"Hang on. We're in a relationship?". Cameron snatched a glance at her boss.

House nodded slowly. "It would…appear so".

"Oh. OK, then", she replied. Both remained silent, processing this revelation. On the one hand, they had each taken this status for granted: they had kissed, spent time together, received the blessings of their boss (and their Wilson). The only thing they hadn't yet done was sleep together. Still, to hear the word 'relationship' spoken out loud made the whole thing sound more concrete, more permanent. "So, umm, what do we do now?", Cameron asked as calmly as possible, both hands on the wheel.

"Well, if you weren't driving, I'd kiss you", House said matter-of-factly.

"Yes, it's a tricky one. How about you just lean over and kiss me on the cheek for now?". Cameron's voice was light, but the pounding of her heart betrayed her.

"Alright". House did as instructed, brushing his lips against her skin.

"I didn't really feel that, to be honest. Why don't you try again?".

House repeated the motion, this time using more pressure. "Better?".

"No, but there's nothing we can do about it at the moment". Cameron reached across and took House's hand in her own.

"I'll kiss you properly when we get to this mysterious place. Seriously though, it can't be that far now, surely?". House swivelled his neck to look at road signs through the window.

"I am serious, and don't call me Shirley". Cameron announced, looking straight ahead.

House's head snapped back around, and his eyes narrowed. "Was that…was that an _Airplane!_ reference?".

"Maybe".

"I was sure that you quoted a line from that film to Foreman and Chase the day I came back to work". House stroked his chin thoughtfully.

Cameron laughed. "I did". House hadn't been in the room, but he had entered just afterwards and hinted to her at the time that he had heard some of their conversation.

"Did they get it?".

"They did not".

House chuckled. "'Course they didn't. I haven't seen that film for ages", he spoke wistfully.

"Me neither. I think it's on Netflix, though".

"Great. I reckon we know what we're doing next week", he said, winking suggestively.

"Dr. House! Are you recommending we watch Netflix and chill on our next date?". Cameron adopted a tone of faux outrage.

"Yep. That's precisely what the doctor advises". With a final kiss of his companion's hand, House returned it to the steering wheel and sat back, relaxing into the seat.

* * *

House and Cameron emerged from the crush of the lobby into the fresh night air. "So, what did you think?", she asked with a hint of trepidation. Though House had seemed to enjoy the concert, it was hard to tell whether it was genuine or merely for her own benefit.

"Believe it or not, I thought it was great. That guy was pretty good on clarinet".

Cameron laughed, relieved. "That _guy_ is Martin Fröst, and this is his first American tour in four years".

House glanced sidelong at his companion as they reached the car; she saw him looking and caught his eye. "What?", she said.

"I just never knew you liked music, that's all". The diagnostician filed it away in his brain as another piece of the puzzle that was his immunologist.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, House". Cameron unlocked the car and opened a door. When the man didn't move to open his, she asked: "are you getting in, or…?".

"I want a burger and a milkshake. Do you want a burger and a milkshake? Since you got the tickets, I'll shout you." House looked at her over the roof of the car.

"Umm, sure. But wouldn't it be quicker to drive and find a place?". Cameron still stood with her door open.

"No need. I saw a joint on the way in. It's not far. Fifteen minutes tops. Plus, it's a nice evening and I always like to walk if I can, especially after the, ah, y'know…". House drifted off. This was the first time he'd mentioned the shooting to Cameron when it was just them, alone, out of the office. He still hadn't confessed the hallucination to her, the reason for why things had suddenly changed between them. There was still time.

The woman smiled and retrieved her cardigan before locking the car and wandering over to stand next to the other. "Lead the way, kind sir". House grinned at this and offered her his arm, which she took. They strolled along in silence. House loved the evenings on the east coast, especially this time of year when late summer yielded to autumn. The air was fresh, though didn't carry the chill characteristic of later in the season, and he took a simple pleasure in seeing the leaves turn. Since the shooting he had enjoyed many late-night runs, when the streets were almost empty, free to sift through his thoughts. The doctor in him acknowledged that this constant exercise was a risk, but he couldn't help it. Finally able to experience the world unimpeded, he wanted to use every second, in case the spectre of unbearable pain returned.

The pair reached the burger bar, collected their food, and took the last remaining booth by the window. The place was quite busy. Clusters of students sat around tables chatting, and there were a few individuals reading books or phone screens. Aside from the odd glance at their formal dress, no one paid them any mind. "So how come you never told me you liked music?", House asked, taking a giant bite of his burger.

Cameron sipped her shake. "What do you mean?".

"Well, my stereo is always on, and my guitar is always primed, and you seemed to take little interest in John Henry Giles when we treated him".

Giles had been a legendary jazz musician they had dealt with nearly two years back. House had been like a kid in a candy store. She smiled at the memory. "I suppose I've always tried to keep my work and personal life separate. It's easier that way, makes it easier to cope".

House chewed on a handful of fries. "Cope with what?".

"Cope with everything: the patients, the medicine…", she paused, "…and you". The diagnostician remained silent, anticipating more. "This job is difficult, House. You make everything seem so easy, but it's really not. Chase, Foreman and I, we're smart people, all finished at the top, or near the top, of our intake. But sometimes it feels as if we are children playing at being doctors. Medicine is so vast, and we each have our specialisms, but sometimes it seems that we never know enough. At least, not compared to you. It's both infuriating and exhilarating, to be honest. So, in order to stay sane, I compartmentalise my life between home and the hospital".

"How's that working out for you?".

"Well, up until, what, four weeks ago, it'd been going great".

House slurped his milkshake. "What happened four weeks ago?".

"I kinda sorta kissed my boss. And things haven't been the same since". Cameron rested her elbows on the table.

"Mmm. I know what you mean". They smiled at each other. "So…the clarinet? Explain".

Cameron smirked. "I played a lot in school, got pretty good at it and that's that, really".

House polished off his burger and sat back. "Do you still play?".

"Not as much as I'd like, but I can still hold a tune. My dad encourages me to maintain a level whenever we talk. He's a music teacher back in Chicago and managed to get me these tickets on short notice".

_The elusive Mr. Cameron_. House once again filed this piece of information away. "You've told your parents about us?". He wasn't sure how he felt about this possibility. Excited and afraid probably best described it.

Cameron looked at him closely. "Nah, I just said I had to entertain a friend of my boss' over from England and had heard they liked music".

House grinned. "Is this friend a guy?".

She raised an eyebrow, acknowledging the game he was playing. "Yes, and he's devilishly handsome".

"Ugh. I know I started this but I'm regretting it already". The diagnostician suddenly experienced a flash of anger at this imaginary character he had conjured up as a joke. He reached across the table and took her hand in his. Cameron smiled at his possessiveness and didn't attempt to break contact. "Well", said House, returning to the issue of her clarinet ability, "maybe you can play for me sometime".

The brunette twirled her hair in a finger as she considered the request. "Only if you accompany me on the piano. Or the guitar, though the piano will sound better".

House nodded. "Sounds good. Might be nice to play with someone for a change. Wilson hasn't got a musical bone in his body".

Cameron tilted her head. "You really like him, don't you?", she said after a few moments.

Now it was House's turn to smirk. "He's alright". The other winked as House released her hand and sat back into the booth, playing with the straw of his milkshake. "I'd be dead without him". The statement was delivered without preamble or preparation and Cameron looked to the table as she thought through its implications. Dead through pain; dead through drugs; dead through loneliness. She supposed that Wilson had helped House through all of these, long before she had arrived on the scene. She resolved suddenly, wherever she and House ended up, never to get between them, never to demand that House choose between herself and his best friend.

House rose and took their trays to the counter. He returned to stand next to Cameron. "Ready to get out of here? Those students over there are looking at me like they've never seen an old man eat a burger and fries before".

Cameron got to her feet and smiled. "You're not old, House".

The man scoffed. "Oh, you. I went fishing for that and you fell for it hook, line and sinker".

The brunette laughed. _That's not the only thing I'm falling for_. "OK, you're a pretty old man. But you're _my_ old man, and I think you're _very_ pretty". She pulled him into a kiss, tasting the strawberry milkshake on his tongue. Having made their point to the suddenly bashful kids on the other table, the pair made their way outside.

It was now late evening, and the air had cooled considerably. Cameron shivered, despite her cardigan. House wordlessly removed his jacket and draped it over his companion. Hand in hand, the two doctors ambled away into the night as the phone in the jacket vibrated unheard and unheeded.


	30. Overthinking

"Right. We have to control the blood pressure first otherwise he'll be dead before we figure out what's wrong with him. Treat him for sepsis and blast him with broad spectrum antibiotics. I also want a cortical stimulation test and an echocardiogram. Go".

"Don't you think we should also-", Foreman began.

"No, I don't. _Go_ ". House remained at the whiteboard as he watched his employees troop from the room. After a few moments he sat at the conference table, spinning the board marker between his fingers. Wilson found him like this. "Hey, did you get my message on Friday?".

House looked up. "Yeah".

The oncologist pulled up a chair. "And?".

"And what?".

Wilson rolled his eyes. "And what are you going to do about it?".

House got up and went to the window. "I…don't know".

"Does Cameron know?".

"No, I haven't told her yet".

"Are you going to?".

"Probably. I should, right?".

"Probably", Wilson echoed.

House rubbed his face and sighed. If Chase really did like Cameron, things would get complicated, chiefly because he didn't know how his immunologist felt about his intensivist. The truth was he knew very little about his employees. He knew that they were all friends; he knew that Cameron and Chase had slept together last year; he knew that they had had some sort of argument shortly after he'd returned to work. That was it. Ironic, really. He had spent the last two and a half years keeping his subordinates at arm's length, but now all he wanted was to know what they thought of each other. Cameron had shown him affection these last few weeks, yes, but that was only after her argument with Chase. What if they'd broken up and he was simply the rebound? How would she react if she knew Chase wanted her after all? What if none of this was real? _What have you got yourself into, Gregory? You don't deserve her_. House brutally suppressed his inner critic.

"House?", Wilson asked from the table.

"What?". House turned back to face his friend. _You were her only option. Her last resort_.

"Cameron likes you, OK? Anyone can see it". House said nothing, so Wilson tried again: "if you want, I can go and ask-".

"You'll do _nothing_!". House voice was loud, and his eyes flashed. Wilson held his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. Though he was used to his friend's occasional outbursts, he still tried to avoid provoking them when possible. The two doctors were silent for a time. "I will deal with this in my own way. I don't want you anywhere near it", said the diagnostician.

"Fair enough. You've got a few days to figure it out. I convinced Chase to hold off for a week".

"Oh, great. Thanks, buddy". House's tone was dark, and his words dripped with sarcasm.

Wilson decided to leave the other to his brooding. At times like this, House was best left to himself. The oncologist rose from the table and made his way to the door. He looked back. "She likes _you_ , House. She chose _you_ ". House said nothing as Wilson left the office.

Wilson was right – she did choose him, but only after Chase was out of reach. The fact was that all of the affection she had shown, even the conversation they had shared during her 'assessment', had only occurred after the mysterious argument between Chase and Cameron in the first week back. House's mind raced. Conceivably, the two could have been together at least since the shooting, maybe even earlier – perhaps after they had slept together. They could have broken up after the argument; and that was when Cameron, seeking an easy distraction, had seduced him. _If I'd known that that was all it took, I'd have seduced you sooner_. Her words from last week came back to him.

But if Chase was regretting the split and wanted to get back with her, Cameron would surely agree. House couldn't help but compare himself with his younger employee. The thought experiment was a depressing one. Chase was a very handsome man, there was no denying that. And Cameron was a beautiful woman. Such people belonged together. _Fuck it_. For the first time in at least two months, House had an overwhelming urge for a Vicodin. Something to take the edge off, something to dull the rational part of his brain that was working overtime comparing his creased, crippled, greying self to his younger, blonder, cleaner intensivist.

House took a few deep breaths. _Stop thinking. Stop thinking. Easy, boy_. He needed to quieten his mind. He needed to feel nothing for a couple of hours. Cameron had made him weak, he thought with disgust. There was a patient to deal with and all he could think of was her leaving him for Chase. _You are fucking pathetic, Greg_. For some inexplicable reason, he could hear his father's disappointment. House dug the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, but still his mind raced. With a grunt, he jogged through to the office and retrieved his bike gear from under the desk.

* * *

Wilson was sat in his office trying to focus on the pile of paperwork before him. But concentration wouldn't come. He had left House in a black mood earlier and was beginning to regret it, especially since his friend had missed their lunch rendezvous. The oncologist suspected that House's overly rational mind would quickly draw deductions based on the physical evidence: Chase was a nicer man, more handsome, younger; ergo he was automatically more attractive to Cameron who, also, was nicer, prettier, younger. The problem with this line of thinking was that it didn't account for the irrational, the emotional. This had always been House's weakness. Wilson was convinced that Cameron truly liked her boss. He didn't know Chase all that well, but the thought of him and her in a relationship…it just sounded weird.

Things would be much easier if he could only tell the immunologist of the situation. She would put Chase in his place, reassure House, and everything could go back to normal. Wilson chuckled mirthlessly. House and Cameron, together, was the new normal. All the same, Wilson couldn't inform the woman himself. He had been sworn to secrecy, and he wasn't about to betray his best friend's confidence. She needed to hear it from House. Only then could they move forwards. There was a knock on the door. "Come in".

Foreman entered. "Hey, have you seen House?".

"Err, I saw him this morning but not since. I thought he was working the case with you…".

"He sent us to do tests, which we did".

"And?".

"And it turns out the guy was doing ecstasy cut with gout medicine. Colchicine poisoning. Open and shut case. Kinda weird that House missed it, to be honest".

"Well, nobody's perfect". Wilson tapped his fingers on the desk, thinking. Despite his words to Foreman, he knew House didn't just miss conditions. There must be another explanation as to why the Head of Diagnostics had sent his employees on a straightforward yet time consuming case. His friend had said that he wanted to deal with this in his own way. House's own way involved… _Drink and drugs_. Wilson bolted upright so quickly that Foreman flinched. "Are you OK?", the neurologist asked.

Wilson didn't answer immediately as he scrambled into his jacket and opened the door. "Yeah. Do me a favour and hold fast in diagnostics for an hour?".

"Uhh, sure. I've some filing to catch up on anyway".

"Great. See you later".

"Where are you going?".

"Nowhere!", Wilson shouted from the corridor.

Foreman stood in the empty office unsure what had just happened.

* * *

Cameron was working on her article in the cafeteria. Though the fellows were still technically on call, their patient was making rapid strides, and she figured the best use of her time would be to try and break the back of her paper over the next several days. It was really beginning to take shape, thanks in no small part to House's advice. They had sat together for two hours last week and he had taken her through the weak points and the bits where more evidence was needed. He had even strengthened a few areas which were already strong and guided her away from a couple of dead ends. The result, she hoped, would be her best article yet: tightly argued, ingenious, original. She took a sip of coffee and scrolled through the latest section.

"Hey, mind if I join you?". Chase stood over the table holding his own drink.

"Hi. Feel free, but I'm probably not the best company right now", Cameron replied without looking up from the laptop screen.

Chase shrugged and sank into the seat opposite, though he was secretly wondering if Cameron's short answer meant that there was trouble in paradise already. He decided to test the waters. "Have you seen House lately?".

The immunologist tapped away at the keys. "Not since this morning, why?".

"No reason. But don't you think it's weird he sends us off to carry out tests all day then disappears?".

It was Cameron's turn to shrug. "Not really. Typical House behaviour as far as I'm concerned. He's probably holed up in an examination room somewhere watching TV".

The intensivist wrapped his hands round the coffee mug. "Maybe, but I thought he was off in the differential as well".

Cameron's eyes scanned the screen, though in truth she'd also thought him distracted in the office. Over the last few weeks she and House had kept their relationship (her heart fluttered at that) secret, but still had found subtle ways to show affection in front of the others: a brushing of fingers here, a glance there, a lingering hand on the back as they left the office on the way to the lab or a patient's room. But this morning, she had received barely an acknowledgement, scarcely even a grunted 'thanks' for the coffee she'd prepared. Although Cameron was used to House's unpredictability, she couldn't deny a feeling of deflation, especially after their second date had gone so well. "Maybe he was off a bit", she conceded, careful to keep her voice level.

"Perhaps he just had a rough weekend", offered Chase. Cameron nodded, though said nothing. "Speaking of, how was yours? Get up to anything?", he continued.

"Fine. It was pretty standard, really. Went for a run, did my groceries, called my parents". _Went on a date with House_. "You?".

"Nothing much. Just met up with Mathilde".

"Ah, very good". Cameron muttered, eyes on the notepad beside the laptop.

"Mmm".

The immunologist didn't especially want to get into the topic of her colleague's romantic life, but her innate kindness and his monosyllabism compelled her to ask: "You OK?".

"I'm fine". Chase experienced an unwelcome flashback to his conversation with Wilson on Friday night. "I'm just starting to think that Mathilde and I have nearly run our course".

"How come? She seems nice to me, and even I can tell she's hot". Cameron was desperately trying to head Chase off at the pass. She _really_ didn't fancy another confrontation at the moment.

"Oh, she's great. I just don't think she's the _one_ , though, y'know?". The intensivist drained his mug and placed his elbows on the table.

"I didn't think you believed in the _one_ ".

"I don't. Or, I didn't. but I'm starting to come around to the idea".

Cameron wasn't sure how to reply to that, so she pretended to sigh at her laptop. Before Chase could elaborate further, however, her phone started to ring on the table. Attempting to conceal her sheer relief at this excuse to cut short their conversation, she immediately accepted the call. "Hello?".

"Hi, Cameron, it's Wilson. Listen, have you got a moment to talk?".

"Sure, one second". Cameron rose from the chair and quickly made her apologies to a slightly irritated Australian. She walked over to the relative sanctuary of the tray rack and continued on the phone. "OK, what's up?".

"Look, I'm not meant to say anything, but it's about House and I'm a bit worried". There was a pause on the other end of the line. "He's disappeared".


	31. Brand new information

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is horribly clichéd, but I make no apology. The title comes from a Friends episode.

It was night the next day by the time House returned to the hospital. He had spent much of the last 36 hours on his bike and, though his butt and thighs now ached, his mind was a whole lot clearer. He parked and made his way to the office, intending to check up on the patient he had left with his fellows. It had been an easy case, so he wasn't expecting any problems. With a sudden burst of pleasure, he remembered the bottle of Macallan he had stashed behind the lupus textbook. _Thank God for lupus_. Maybe after glancing through the files he could make a dent in that and _really_ put his mind at ease.

House walked into his office where, to his surprise, he found Cameron sat in his chair talking on the landline. He had hoped to put this off until the morning. She looked up immediately as he entered and spoke into the receiver. "Yes, he's here. Yes. Yep. OK, will do. Bye". She slammed the phone down with more force than House thought strictly necessary. He moved to the coat rack and was half out of the jacket as Cameron moved to bar his way.

"Yeah, no, you're gonna have to move or else I'll have to hang my jacket over your head. And no one wants that. Least of all the jacket", he said. Cameron's face barely flickered. House sighed. "I've already had to tell Wilson that strong and silent really doesn't suit him. Don't make me start with you too".

"Start, is it? How about _this_ for a start?". With that, Cameron balled her hand into a fist and half prodded half punched him in the chest.

Most of the blow was cushioned by the leather, but he pretended to be hurt. "Ouch. You really need to stop doing that. Domestic violence is no joke", House said, uncertain of the look in Cameron's eyes.

"Oh, that was on Wilson's behalf. As for me, you might wanna put that helmet back on…".

House laughed, though his treacherous hands brought the helmet up fractionally. Cameron's body seemed to quiver, and her fingers flexed at her side. She walked right up to him, her posture belligerent. "Cameron, listen-", he began.

"No, _you_ listen, House. I'm a pretty easy-going person, OK, and I would never presume to demand you keep me informed of your movements. You're your own man, and I respect that immensely. Hell, it's one of the reasons I like you so much. But if you _ever_ , and I mean _ever_ , make me, make _us_ , that worried again, I swear to you, I'll, I'll…". Cameron paused, searching for a suitably serious punishment, "I'll kidnap your guitar and have your motorbike melted down for scrap".

The man's face turned white. Cameron meant business. "I just went for a little bike ride, that's all. No big deal".

"A 'little bike ride'?", Cameron's voice emerged in a high strangle and she brought it down a couple of notches. "You walked out of your workplace with no warning and completely disappeared for nigh on two days. Wilson has been everywhere looking for you. Didn't you get our messages?".

"The signal sucked where I was, and I was on the road most of the time". House pulled out his phone and checked. "Wow, yeah, you guys must've really missed me, huh?".

"Really missed…?", Cameron repeated, before opening and closing her mouth wordlessly. Instead she pulled House into a fierce hug, burying her face in his shoulder.

"Whoa, hey, what's the matter? Are you OK?". House dropped the helmet on the floor and wrapped his arms around his immunologist.

Cameron pulled back, her eyes shining. "Am _I_ OK? Are _you_ OK?".

"What do you mean?".

"Well, Wilson thought you may have gone to some dive bar or, or, opium den to get wasted or something. And then when you weren't answering your phone…half of the messages weren't even getting through and those that did weren't being read…we thought maybe you'd...". Cameron drifted off.

House raised an eyebrow. "An opium den? We're not in Victorian England, Cameron". But her glare suggested that she wasn't ready to start joking yet. "I'm fine. I just needed to get away. Clear my head".

"Why? What's happened?". Cameron thought back on Chase's words yesterday in the cafeteria: _maybe he had a bad weekend_. And that could only have happened after their date on Friday – _because_ of their date on Friday. Cameron started speaking quickly, panicked. "Was it something I did? Did I do something wrong? If you just tell me what it is, I can fix it. Honestly, I don't mind. Whatever it is, just tell me and I'll put it right. God, I knew clarinets was a bad idea…".

"Cameron, stop. Please, just sit". House shepherded her to the desk chair.

"I know that tone. That's the tone you take when you reject prospective cases". Cameron was going to go down swinging. She had waited too long to let her dream go up in smoke without a fight. "You're going to end this, aren't you? Well, I don't accept it. I _don't_ accept it. You have no right to ride roughshod over my feelings. Under New Jersey law, partnerships can only be dissolved if both parties agree. And I do _not_ agree". She had no idea where that came from, but it sounded impressive.

House smiled in spite of himself. "Easy there, Judge Judy". But Cameron looked utterly despondent, so he tried a different tack. "Hey, look at me". He reached out and tilted her chin upwards. "I don't want anything to end, OK? But some new facts have come to light, and it's only fair you know the full story before you make a decision".

"What new facts?". For a fraction of a second, Cameron imagined that Stacey had come back to town and declared her undying love. The thought made her face fall even more.

House sighed, battling his own demons. She had to know, even if it meant losing her. "I've got something to show you", he said, reaching into his pocket. Cameron's mind raced. He was going to pull out a wedding ring and tell her he'd eloped with Stacey. _That fucking bitch_. She barely registered House pushing the phone across the desk towards her. "Read", he murmured.

Completely depressed, Cameron's eyes drifted downwards and traced what was on the screen. She didn't say anything for a few moments. House, believing her to be thinking of a way out, began: "Hey, don't worry about me, I'll be-".

"Sorry, what am I looking at?". Cameron scrolled through the messages.

"Err, the message on the screen?". House looked over and saw that she was browsing through his conversation history with Wilson. He reached across and returned her to Wilson's message from Friday.

"This message?", she asked.

"Yeah. So, obviously, this changes things. And, obviously, I would never expect you to choose me over him. It's OK, though. Really. I've thoroughly enjoyed our time together. No hard feelings. I'll try and ensure things go back to normal, but obviously-".

"House, sorry, but I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about". Cameron's face was a picture of complete befuddlement.

House sighed again, and he experienced a flash of anger that he had to spell out the implications of the message. "Chase is asking _questions_ about us".

"OK…I'm with you so far", Cameron said slowly.

"Chase _likes_ you, Cameron. God, I thought it was pretty obvious from that but maybe not".

"Umm, OK?".

House suddenly snapped. Either she was being unintentionally dense, or she was rubbing it in. Whichever, it was pissing him off. "It means you can go _back_ to him, OK? It means that this, whatever _this_ was, can end, and we can reset to the way things were, when I was miserable, and you and Chase were shacked up making little Chicago-Australia hybrids. Ugh". House turned away and went to look out the window.

"House". Cameron got up from the desk. Relief coursed through her veins as she realised, finally, what had happened. "Look at me".

The diagnostician turned around, saw she was smiling, and got angry all over again. "This is not funny. What the hell is wrong with you?".

"It actually is funny, but you'll have to listen otherwise you won't get it. First of all, I was never with Chase".

"But you had an argument-", House began.

"- _not_ listening", she interjected firmly. The man fell silent. "I did have an argument with Chase, but it wasn't about a relationship. Or at least, not about a relationship with him".

"What does that mean?", asked House, suddenly tired of this back and forth. He hadn't slept much in the last couple of days and was looking forward to his bed. The Macallan behind the lupus textbook would keep for another time.

Cameron took hold of the lapels on the biker jacket and held him tightly. "For such a smart guy, House, you really are a complete moron". The man looked down uncomprehendingly, unsure if he was charmed or offended. She risked a chuckle. "We argued about _you_ , you loveable idiot. Chase realised my feelings towards you the day you came back to the office. Then, that evening we went out to dinner and he challenged me on it". Cameron paused. "He hinted that he liked me, and I shot him down in no uncertain terms. Hence the frostiness in the office".

Comprehension dawned. "So, you knew about Chase all this time?".

"Yep. Brand new information it ain't. I've known about Chase's feelings pretty much since day one. I'm used to men pursuing me, and he was no exception. He asked me out within the first few weeks, and I said no".

"But you slept with him. I thought maybe that was the start of things between you two, and that the argument had ended it". House was still trying to figure things out.

Cameron nodded. "I slept with Chase, yes. I did it because I was _this_ close to contracting AIDS from that patient, and you didn't even seem to care. Then you told me you loved me, just to stick a swab in my mouth-".

"I'm sorry-", House began.

But Cameron held up her hand. "Forget about it. I'm just trying to explain what happened. I was in a bad way, I thought you had abandoned me, and that AIDS patient made me feel boring and unadventurous. So, I got high that night, Chase turned up at my place, and we fucked. It didn't mean anything, not to me anyway. Pretty much the long and short of it". House considered her words but remained quiet. She carried on: "Anyway, I think Chase had designs on asking me out again while you were recuperating after…y'know". Her gaze wavered briefly. "But I put him off. And now Wilson thinks he knows about us, and I'm struggling to see what the problem is with that".

House digested everything she had said, nodding slowly. "So…you still want to be with me? You don't want to be with Chase?".

Cameron moved both of her hands to his face and took hold of his ears. She had never done that before. "House, when are you going to get this into your skull? I waited for _you_. I want _you_. Not Chase, not Foreman, not Wilson, not Cuddy, not the janitor on the second floor".

"Are you sure? 'Cos the janitor on the second floor is basically a male model, and I would pay good money to watch you with Cuddy". House's voice was low, despite the joke.

"Yes, I'm sure. No one but you, Gregory House, Head of Diagnostics at PPTH, Princeton, New Jersey, America, Earth, the Milky Way, the Universe".

"That's very specific", House commented.

"I know. I don't suppose even you could possibly overthink your way out of that one". Cameron tilted her head as she spoke.

"Probably not", House conceded. "But, boy, you'll have egg on your face if the multiverse model is ever proven".

"Maybe". She nodded thoughtfully. "I wonder how the other Camerons are getting on explaining this situation to their Houses".

"That's assuming these Houses and Camerons ever get together", he pointed out.

Cameron moved her hands to his cheeks, and their gazes locked. "They get together".

The certainty in her voice caused House to swallow. "I believe you", he replied softly. They kissed tenderly. But before House could cop a feel, Cameron pulled away and retrieved her jacket from the back of his chair.

"Err, what? I thought we-". House had been looking forward to a serious make out session now that they were fully reconciled.

"Don't 'what' me, bozo. You stink of bike fumes and sweat and I'm still mad at you for abandoning me without warning and sending Wilson traipsing all over Princeton. Your kissing rights are hereby rescinded until our date Friday. And you better bring your 'A' game, because I do not forgive easily. See you tomorrow, Dr. House". Without so much as a backward glance, she swept from the room leaving her boss open-mouthed.

After a few moments of stunned stillness, he sniffed under his arm and spoke aloud to the empty room: "Did she just call me a stinky bozo?". The tall doctor sank into the seat, put his feet up, and tossed a baseball from hand to hand as he reflected on what had been a surreal couple of days.


	32. Hameron

House and Wilson were in the lunch queue the following day. "So how did it go with Cameron last night?", the latter asked as he requested his food from the lady behind the counter.

House rolled his eyes. "Why do you always have to stampede towards the deep questions? I've only just got in, and I prefer to avoid discussing matters of the heart until I've eaten a quarter of my weight in food". He ordered English-style fish and chips.

"You've only just got in? It's half past twelve". Wilson shook his head as he placed an empty cup under the spout and selected a Pepsi.

"I haven't had much sleep these last few days so I figured that I should just reset and come in refreshed. Tiredness is the number one killer in America, Wilson, and I refuse to become just another statistic". The nephrologist moved to the salad bar and unloaded a huge serving of greenery onto his plate, being careful to ensure that it completely covered the rest of his food. "Anyway, we haven't got a patient at the minute, so I had an empty morning".

"Y'know, most doctors would use the time to work on research, or catch up on some paperwork, or help out in the clinic".

House recoiled from his friend as if he had just inquired as to the sexual availability of his own mother. "Since I know you spent fruitless hours searching for me yesterday, I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and pretend that such a ridiculous suggestion stems from your own sleep-deprived state". The pair reached the till. "Hi there, Jenny", House smiled at the woman, taking in the name on her badge. "Just a salad today, thanks. Trying to be healthy but Lord knows it's a losing battle at the minute!", he winked at her.

"Dr. House, I can literally see a piece of battered fish on your plate". Jenny folded her arms and frowned.

"No, you can't". House surreptitiously rearranged the leaves and smiled again.

"Yes, I can".

"No, your eyes must be seeing imaginary fish. It's a fairly common condition". House looked at her with sympathy.

"Oh, yeah? What's it called?".

"Multipiscevideo. But don't worry: regular treatment will cure you of this unfortunate affliction".

"So, if I were to reach across and remove that giant piece of lettuce from your plate, would I or would I not find a large serving of fish and chips?". Jenny's hands moved to her hips.

"A tricky question, and one for the philosophers. I have one for you: does a falling tree make any sound if there's no one there to hear it? Ultimately unanswerable. One of life's great unknowns, really". Jenny ran out of patience and moved to carry out her threat. But House quickly reached out and intercepted her hand in his, stroking it softly. "Such lovely skin. You _must_ tell me your moisturising regimen. I just cannot for the life of me get my skin this supple. I've tried everything: aloe vera, goose fat, the blood of sixteen virgins. Nothing's worked. What's your secret?".

Jenny blushed slightly but nevertheless persevered. "Dr. House, I must insist-".

Wilson, who had been watching with some amusement, leapt to the rescue. "Don't worry, Jenny. I'll get this. Please excuse House. He was dropped on his head as a child and, well, the consequences of that are still working themselves out". Wilson peeled off the dollar bills and nodded at the woman's grateful smile.

The pair moved away. "Here's another philosophical question for you", said House as they sat at a table. "Let's say that the server behind the till is not in fact a young woman named Jenny, but actually an old man named Bert. Let's say that an oncologist named James Wilson witnesses a diagnostician named Gregory House giving Bert a hard time. Would James Wilson come to Bert's defence, or would he walk on by?". As he spoke, House picked off all the salad and dropped it to the side.

"One of life's great unknowns", grinned Wilson.

House scoffed but the two ate in silence for a few moments. "Are you gonna tell me what happened last night, or shall I just get it from Cameron?", asked the oncologist eventually.

"Since when do you and Cameron speak?".

"Since I put the moves on her shortly after she started her fellowship". Wilson remained impassive as he sipped his drink. House looked up sharply at this and his friend started laughing. "Boy, you are too easy. I've got you twice now".

"Yeah, yeah. Did you actually though?".

"I'll answer your question if you answer mine".

House rolled his eyes. "Fine. It went as well as could be expected. I'm in the doghouse for a couple of days. She didn't like that I took off without warning, apparently".

Wilson nodded. "Well, you had me worried too".

"Sure, but if you rescind my kissing rights as well, I wouldn't mind. Just putting that out there". The diagnostician munched on a mouthful of fish.

Wilson smirked. "As long as you've learnt your lesson".

"What lesson?".

"It's not just you anymore, House; it's not even just you and me. It's you and Cameron. Before, you could just take off and no one but Cuddy and I would care. But now, someone else cares, and by the sounds of things she cares a lot". Wilson took a bite of his sandwich, observing the man opposite. House was so used to being alone, to dealing with his feelings by riding off into the sunset without hesitation. Although the oncologist had come to believe that his friend and Cameron were closely compatible, it was this aspect of their relationship that would be most interesting to observe. Could they be open and survive the give and take of companionship, or would they close themselves off and gradually drift apart? Wilson had the wreckage of several marriages which testified to the reality of that particular conundrum.

House nodded slowly after a few minutes of thoughtful chewing. "She cares. That's one thing that I established last night".

"Shocker. If you recall, I said as much in your office two days ago before you turned those flashing blue eyes on me".

"Yeah, but you know I ignore most of what you say".

"That I do know", Wilson grunted, as he hit the dregs of his Pepsi. "And what about Chase?".

"I think Chase isn't really my problem, though if and when we go public, I'll deal with it then. So?". House sat back and folded his arms.

"So…?".

The diagnostician rolled his eyes. "Did you put the moves on Cameron?".

"Actually no. I was going to do it the day you invited her in for interview-". House scoffed but said nothing, listening as his friend continued: "But then I saw the looks she gave you during that interview and realised a futile effort when I saw one".

"There's no way she's had the hots for me since day one. No way".

Wilson raised an eyebrow. "You really are a complete moron, House".

"Not the first time I've heard that this week", he muttered.

"Afternoon, men". Cuddy walked over to them, tray in hand. "Mind if I join you?".

"This is the guy zone. You can only join us if you prove you can act like a guy". House placed his elbows on the table and smirked at his boss.

"Let's see. I can burp the alphabet?".

"Are you asking me or telling me?".

"Telling you".

"Fine. I was hoping for something sexual but whatever", House observed, as Cuddy occupied the chair next to Wilson.

"You want something sexual to do with a guy? Now I know what you two do when no one is around". The Dean set about spreading her low sodium rye bread with her low sodium not-quite-butter spread.

"Hey", interjected Wilson. "Love takes many forms".

"Yeah, yeah. Say, House, I've got a question for you". Cuddy took a bite of food and levelled her gaze at the diagnostician.

House sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I thought you might. I'll have to run it by Cameron, but it should be fine".

"Huh?", she was momentarily confused.

"You're finally going to ask me to sleep with you. I'm keen, but I _will_ have to check with Cameron. She may even be up for a threesome". House finished his fish and chips and began to slurp his Fanta. Wilson laughed. Cuddy didn't. "Believe it or not, that wasn't actually going to be my question".

"Oh. Then fire away, but if I get bored, I reserve the right to fall asleep here and now". He sat back and closed his eyes, as if to demonstrate what such a situation would look like.

"I got a report from Dr. Spivey in the Morgue saying that a couple of weeks ago someone carried out an unauthorised autopsy late at night after everyone had left. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?".

"No, your honour. What makes you think it was me?".

"I'm glad you asked. It just so happens that it was the patient you lost. The one that died without a diagnosis".

"It happened late at night? Well, it can't possibly have been me. You know I like to clock off as soon as I can".

Cuddy considered this answer. House's inherent laziness did often carry the day, but she wondered whether his innate desire to solve puzzles would override that which he had for idleness. Not to mention the fact that he would be the only doctor in this hospital who would actually _think_ to carry out an autopsy. Of course it was him. "So you're saying that you didn't carry out the autopsy?".

"Do you really want me to answer that?". House looked at his boss closely.

The Dean sighed but looked at Wilson. "Let the record show that I asked the question".

"Noted". The oncologist recognised this exchange as a variation on the policy that his friend and their boss often employed to get around the simple fact that a fair amount of what House did skirted on both sides of the law. In this situation, Cuddy could claim to have formally 'investigated' Spivey's claim without having forced House to reveal the truth which would necessitate an official inquest. As penance, House was generally 'encouraged' to carry out a double dose of clinic duty.

"By the way", she said, right on cue, "the clinic is understaffed tomorrow due to a fever amongst this week's rotation. Why don't you pop in and do some good, House? And no turning it over to Cameron".

The man himself rolled his eyes but nevertheless inclined his head in assent. He had expected this or something similar. "I'll carry out your wishes, but I'm bringing my Gameboy".

"As long as you actually do it, I don't care. Who even plays Gameboys nowadays, anyway?". Cuddy had finished her food and was stirring skimmed milk into her coffee.

"Hey, don't knock my device. It's been with me longer than Wilson's wives have been with him".

Wilson looked up sharply. "Huh? Why're you bringing me into this? I'm just minding my own business here".

Cuddy took a sip of her drink. "Speaking of minding one's own business – how're things with Cameron, House?".

The diagnostician leant back and clasped his hands behind his head. "I see what you did there, Cuddles. See, because you're actually _not_ minding your own business, you wily minx, you". The Dean raised an eyebrow as House continued: "Why are you lot always asking about my love life? What about yours, eh?".

"Stop trying to change the subject", she retorted.

"Saw through that, did you?", he smirked.

"Either you tell us about Cameron, or I'll have you file an official report informing the hospital why you thought it acceptable to abscond for two workdays without leave".

House looked at Wilson, who shrugged. "How'd you know about that?", he asked, eyes narrowed.

"The hospital seemed abnormally happier, so I figured you'd gone AWOL". Cuddy smiled at her employee.

"Hah, you're on fire today. Fine, I'll tell you. But this will have to tide you over for…", House paused and stroked his chin, "…two weeks".

"Deal". Cuddy brushed her hands of crumbs and placed her elbows on the table. Wilson, who had been observing the back and forth with an amused air, also leant forwards.

"OK, so this Friday is our next date and things are likely to get…", House dipped his head towards his friends and whispered conspiratorially, "… _steamy_ ".

"Is that so?", replied Cuddy. "Gonna turn on the charm? Gonna pull out all the stops?".

"Yep. I'm _cooking_ ".

The Dean was so surprised she had to check she hadn't misheard. "Err, what? I didn't know you…House, are you sure that's wise?". In all the years they'd know each other, he had never once betrayed any hint of being anything more than a microwave man.

"Don't you worry your little head about that. I know exactly what I'm doing. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go take a huge dump. That fish and chips is coming out quicker than it went in". House got up and left without another word.

Cuddy looked at Wilson. "Should we prepare for tears come Monday? Or food poisoning?".

Wilson laughed, but his voice was low. "Believe it or not, House is actually a phenomenal cook".

"You're kidding?". Cuddy couldn't accept it.

"Nope. He's really good. He just never bothers. I think the last time he cooked was…",

"Let me guess. Stacey".

Wilson nodded and looked towards the door through which his friend had just exited. "I think this is the final proof".

The Dean looked at her oncologist. "Proof of what?".

The man's eyes returned to the woman seated beside him. "This House and Cameron thing is on. It's on big time".

She nodded thoughtfully. "Well, if you're right, we'll need a shorthand for them".

"Hmmm". The pair reflected for a few moments.

Cuddy looked up. "What about 'Hameron'"?

Wilson smirked, but he returned her nod. "That's actually not bad. Hameron. I like it".

"Well, here's to Hameron". She raised her coffee mug and Wilson knocked against it with his almost empty Pepsi cup.

"I'll drink to that", he replied with a smile.


	33. Best buddies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a bit of American geography in this entry. I did look at Google maps but since I'm not getting paid for this, I didn't look all that closely.

The fellows were in the office Thursday afternoon filling out paperwork. Chase was using the shared desktop while Foreman and Cameron were tapping away on their laptops. Since House had mysteriously disappeared for the duration of their just completed case, it fell to his subordinates to fulfil the administrative obligations each patient brought with them. Indeed, given that House was _not_ in charge of the case, the paperwork would be properly and completely filed for a change. The Head of Diagnostics was many things, but a stickler for due procedure was not one of them.

Foreman sat back in his chair and looked at his colleagues. "So, do we have any idea where House got to this week? It's unlike him to just up and leave".

"Dunno. It was pretty great not having him breathing down our necks for a change, though. I wouldn't be against him doing it again", said Chase from the computer, with a wry smile.

"No idea either", said Cameron. This wasn't actually a lie, since House had never told her where he'd gone on his bike.

As ever, Foreman suspected that Cameron knew more than she let on. But in deference to Chase he didn't push it. "I met up with that rep from Parker-Wright last night. Katie, the one that gave me the booking for the German restaurant".

"Oh, yeah? Well, _Katie_ seems to like you, mate". Chase winked at the neurologist.

"Funny you say that. She came back to mine afterwards, and we may have…", Foreman glanced at Cameron, "…er, done the dance with no pants".

Cameron looked Foreman squarely in the face. "You can speak plainly, Foreman. I have two brothers and I've worked with you long enough".

Foreman laughed. Sometimes he forgot that, despite her youthful appearance and caring attitude, Cameron was as open about sexual matters as anyone he knew. "Well, anyway, she's hinting that she wants something more than a fling and I dunno how I feel about that".

"Don't do it, man. Just accept the lay and get out of there. Women aren't worth the aggravation. No offence", muttered Chase in Cameron's direction.

"None taken", smirked the immunologist.

"Trouble in Mathilde-land, Chase?", asked Foreman conversationally.

"I don't want to talk about it", returned the Australian, turning back to the computer screen.

"What are we discussing, minions?". House wandered into the office. He had spent most of the day in the clinic and was thoroughly bored. True to his word, he hadn't palmed the duty off to one of his subordinates – he didn't feel like aggravating the Overlord at the moment. The diagnostician made his way over to the kitchen area, put some water on to boil and faced the others. "Well?".

"Where did you disappear to earlier in the week, House?", Foreman inquired instead.

The man himself rolled his eyes. "Fun fact: I hate it when people answer a question with another question. It's one of my pet peeves. Along with stupidity, idiocy and unintelligence".

"We were talking about sex", Foreman said at once. "Now will you tell us where you got to?".

House was rifling through the cupboards. "What the hell have you people done with the coffee? I'm gone two days and all my favourite things are not where they're meant to be".

Cameron got up from the conference table and walked over, shooing House to the side. "I'll do it. I could use a refill anyway". House nodded his appreciation and brushed against her arm as he turned back to Foreman. "By the way, the coffee is here, House", she remarked, waving the packet in front of his face.

"I know. I'm not an imbecile. I just wanted you to make it. _Women_ ", House muttered with mock joviality to Foreman and Chase, both of whom raised their eyebrows. Cameron only sighed good-naturedly. Before the two men could raise any further questions about this weirdly domestic exchange, House said: "I went on a little state tour. First to Delaware, then to Maryland, then back to Princeton via the forest route".

"What the heck? That must be at least a 400 mile round trip", commented the neurologist.

"Maybe, but who's counting?". House was now leaning against the windowsill.

"Why on earth did you decide to do that mid-week and mid-case?", asked Chase. Cameron studiously spooned coffee beans into the machine, feigning disinterest, but she too was curious about how he would frame his answer.

"Because of _you_ , Chase". House replied after a dramatic pause.

"What?". All three fellows spoke it at once, but the immunologist was the most surprised. She hadn't expected him to reveal the cause of his disappearance so candidly to the others. The final confession that she and House were now together would surely follow. Although she was more than happy to reveal this, a little warning would have been preferable. She mentally prepared herself.

"Yeah", House continued. "Ever since I saw you in those short shorts, I just couldn't get you out of my mind. You're a very handsome man, and I think the shooting really stirred up some feelings. For the first month or so after I came back, every time I saw you, I just wanted to rip your clothes off and have my way with you".

Chase shook his head from the computer. "OK, very funny".

"This isn't a joke, House. We might've needed your help with the case", Foreman remonstrated.

"Oh, this is no joke, Formdog. I rarely kid about matters of the heart". House accepted his coffee from Cameron, whom he looked in the face, his shining blue eyes boring into her own. "Thank _you_ ", he said softly. Cameron said nothing, though the sudden hammering of her heart indicated that her brain had read the true significance, and recipient, of his words. She walked back to the table, careful to ensure that she retained an expression of mild amusement. "Anyway", remarked House, tone normal again, "I took a couple of days to get away and process things. And you'll be relieved to hear that I'm not in love with you, Chase". The diagnostician took a few gulps of his drink.

"Great". The Australian rolled his eyes.

"It was a close-run thing, though. That blonde hair you have is to die for. Is it natural?". House's eyes flashed over his coffee cup.

"Err, yeah". The intensivist was beginning to feel uncomfortable under his boss' gaze.

Cameron, who had remained silent during the entire conversation, saw an opportunity to come to Chase's aid while also seeking an answer to a question she had wanted to ask ever since she and House's encounter in the lab. "You seem to be a real sucker for blondes, huh?". The woman ran a hand through her own brown hair, slightly self-consciously.

House looked at her for a moment or two and shrugged. "The colour reminds me of hookers".

Chase scoffed. "Gee, thanks. First you insult my country, then you insinuate that I'm a prostitute".

"Hey", said the other at once, finger raised. "I never insulted Australia. In fact, it's a fine land full of industrious and beautiful people".

"Look, if it's all the same to you, maybe we should get back to work now", sighed Foreman.

"Hang on. You said you were talking about sex before. I know I joked about homosexuality, but if you two have something to share…?". The diagnostician trailed off, winking suggestively.

Now it was Foreman's turn to wink. "How do you know it wasn't Cameron we were talking about, eh? Or do you know something about her relationship status that we don't?". the neurologist sat back in his chair and smiled in triumph.

The woman herself prepared to speak up but House pre-empted her. "Actually, _homie_ , if you cast your mind back to our first day in this office after my return, you'll recall that Cameron made it very clear that she didn't get involved with anyone at work. And it's a brave man that asserts she's changed her mind. But if you're willing to try, let me just grab my popcorn…".

Cameron smirked and folded her arms. Ordinarily she'd be annoyed that someone had presumed to speak on her behalf, but House's reply had pretty much been her own, and a part of her loved to watch him in his element, baiting his subordinates, dishing it out and receiving some mouth in return. In fact, she felt a little left out. "Well, in fairness, House, they may not have meant sex with _them_. Maybe I have a secret lover I've kept hidden from you all". She twirled a finger in her hair as she spoke.

"Oh, yeah?". House grinned, daring her to play the game. "Why don't you go ahead and describe this mythical creature? I don't think these guys would believe it otherwise".

"Nah, I think I'll keep him to myself for the time being. I don't want you lot asking incessant questions". House didn't risk a glance at this, but it wasn't necessary. Cameron had subtly signalled she was happy with the current policy of keeping things under wraps for now.

"Wait, so you do actually have a secret boyfriend?", Chase asked.

"Huh?", she replied. "This is all hypothetical. As House said, such a person is likely to be completely mythical".

"Right, well, now that we're all thoroughly confused, we still have a heap of papers to sort through", said Foreman.

"Straight to business, Foreman. That must be why Katie likes you so much". House finished his coffee and placed the empty mug in the sink.

The neurologist looked up sharply. "How did you know about Katie?".

"Please. Did you honestly think that all the drug reps are attracted to you because of your magnetic personality and shining head? I tell all the female reps that you and I are best buddies and that if you're happy I'm happy. I thought you knew this". House caught sight of Foreman's open mouth from his position at the sink. "Yikes…". The diagnostician paused and glanced at his watch. "It seems my work here is done. If that's all, it's time for _Real Hospitals of Los Angeles_. Don't disturb me". He sauntered over to the dividing door and opened it.

"Wait. What do you do with the male reps?", asked Cameron, who had stifled a laugh only with great difficulty.

House's eyes twinkled. "I send them to Cuddy. No man should die without at least catching a glimpse of those funbags. I take the duty to my gender very seriously indeed". With that the door clanged shut, and TV noise soon filtered through into the shared office.


	34. Not nice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The time has come for this story to heat up. While this entry is a fairly smooth take-off, it is suggestive, and things are only going to get racier from here. If this isn't your thing, thanks for reading and have a nice life. The chapter alludes to events in the season two episode 'Distractions'.

House was in his office reading through the latest issue of the _Journal of the American Society of Nephrology_. It was often forgotten by his colleagues, and perhaps even his employer, but he had his own specialism in nephrology with a side interest in infectious diseases. And yet he disliked the whole idea of 'specialisms', if only because it implied that doctors did not – or could not – know everything about everything. House rejected the implication. Instead, he strove for total knowledge.

It was for this reason that he automatically had greater respect for certain thinkers over others: the true polymaths like Aristotle and da Vinci intrigued him more than the narrow mathematical brilliance of an Einstein or a Nash. All smart men, to be sure, but some more interesting than others. Medicine concerned not just the workings of the human body but every bacterium, virus and organism that might affect it. Doctors should therefore have no medical specialism because, almost by definition, it was _all_ their specialism. Still, here he was reading about nephrology. _Face it, Greg. You have a thing for kidneys_.

House scribbled a note in the margin of a page and underlined a footnote he wanted to check later. It was a Chinese article, though the authors had obviously had it translated into English for submission in this journal, and he wanted to browse the original. Often, it was the stuff that never made it between original and translation which held the most attraction for him, especially since there was very little crossover between English and Chinese, and consequently very little chance one reader could access both versions. House supposed that this was the challenge of translation in general – did you aim to translate as literally as possible, or did you instead aim for language that flowed, even if it meant that one version differed not a little from the other? Add to that the possibility that Chinese doctors, like himself, might have a more relaxed attitude to medical ethics, and the interest factor increased exponentially.

There was a knock on the office door, and he called 'enter' without looking up. But he knew immediately that it was Cameron. He had grown used to the sound of her walk and her subtle smell. Even in the harsh cleanliness of the hospital, she still managed to retain hints of femininity. "You don't have to knock, y'know", remarked House, though he remained buried in the journal.

The immunologist walked up to his desk and sat in the chair opposite. "I know, but you seemed so peaceful that I didn't want to disrupt your zen".

House looked up and smiled briefly, before sitting back in his chair and giving the woman in front of him his full attention. "How long were you standing there observing me?".

"Not long. About five minutes. Give or take ten minutes".

"You should be careful. People might think you're stalking your boss".

"I don't care what people think", Cameron replied.

House clasped his hands behind his head. "Riiight. Only people who care what people think say that they don't care what people think".

Cameron shrugged. "I only care what _you_ think".

"I told you on our last date that I didn't want you to worry about what I thought".

The woman's bright eyes danced as she answered. "I didn't say I worried about what you thought. I said I _cared_ about what you thought. There's a difference". The nephrologist grunted but didn't dispute the distinction. "What're you reading?".

" _Gushing Grannies_ ", he replied.

Cameron made a face. "Is there such a publication?".

"Actually, yeah. I signed one of your admirers up to it a while back. Turns out if you buy a full year subscription you get another half year completely free. You don't need to be a genius to spot a bargain like that".

"Which admirer are we talking about?", she asked, tilting her head slightly.

"Lab tech. No idea what his name is".

"Ah. It was probably Michael. No wonder he's made himself scarce. He probably thought I did it".

House scoffed. "I doubt it. You're too nice for him to think that".

The other got up from her chair and wandered over to House's side of the desk. He span to face her. "You think I'm nice?", she asked, looking down at him.

"I _know_ you are", he replied, meeting her gaze.

Cameron nodded slightly. "I am nice". She walked forwards until she stood between his legs. "But here's the problem, Dr. House. 'Nice' doesn't really cut it for me. 'Nice' is nowhere near enough". She leant down and whispered in his ear, her hair brushing against his face. "In a few hours, you'll see just how 'nice' I can be. And maybe you'll need to revise your opinion".

House swallowed. From his seated position he could see the silver necklace disappear beneath her blouse. Combined with her smell, sultry tone and the feel of her hair against his skin, it was a struggle not to reach out and force his mouth to hers. "You should know by now that I rarely revise my first impression", he said. Cameron withdrew slightly and it caused a flash of regret to surge through his system. But the disappointment was short-lived, and she settled lightly in his lap. "Someone could see. The shades aren't closed", he remonstrated.

"I don't care", she replied.

"But Foreman and Chase are due back soon".

"I don't care".

The diagnostician gave up and instead wrapped his arms around the other, enjoying her weight for a couple of minutes. "Y'know, if we're gonna keep doing this, maybe I should get a bigger chair".

"Nah, I like this one", she mumbled against his shoulder.

" _You_ might, but you're pressed right against my-", House began.

"I know exactly what I'm pressed against, Dr. House". Cameron wiggled her butt slightly. "And by the feel of things, you have nothing to fear".

These words caused a stirring. "I know what you're doing, Dr. Cameron".

She wiggled again. "So suspicious. I'm not doing anything except getting comfy. It's a free country". House exhaled softly, willing his mind to focus. He thought back to the hallucination, when he had vowed that this woman wouldn't conquer him. A similar resolve was required now. Cameron's hand slipped lazily to his thigh. "You've written some strange annotations on that page", she said, glancing to the open journal on the desk.

"Err, yeah", House replied in mild surprise. "I want to check out how they've rendered the Mandarin into English".

"Huh. So, you weren't reading _Gushing Grannies_ then".

The mention of a sex magazine from Cameron's mouth, no matter how disgusting the subject matter, caused another stir down below. House was beginning to wish he'd told her he was reading the annual report of the American cross-stitching association. "So, you're planning to read the article in Chinese?", she continued.

"Yeah".

"That's cool". The immunologist's hand trailed along his thigh slowly. "I remember the last journal article you read that was in an unusual language. It was last year when you were trying to disprove the migraine cure your friend had published in…where was it?".

" _Neuroscience New Delhi_. The language was Hindi. And he wasn't my friend". House was unsure where this was leading, but the thought of Philip Weber was doing wonders at crushing his libido.

"Sorry. What was your not-a-friend's name again?". He told her. "Hmm. No, that doesn't sound right. You had another name for him, I'm sure you did".

House's heart sank as he realised what she was getting at. "Err, no. It was definitely Philip".

"Hang on, I'll get it in a second". Cameron tapped the fingers of one hand against his chest while the other continued its journey up his thigh. "What was it? Daniel….Desmond…no, no. Derek? Oh! It was _Dick_ ", the immunologist exclaimed triumphantly. "That's a funny name, isn't it? Dick. You don't see many Dicks nowadays; well, I know _I_ haven't seen a Dick for a while. You probably see one every day. I wonder why it's rare? It's a perfectly reasonable name, don't you think?", she asked him innocently, repositioning herself slightly. House took a deep breath, attempting to forget the words coming out of Cameron's mouth. But his body had other ideas. "Yes, I remember Dick", she continued. "Because he really was a giant _dick_ to you, and I didn't like that. I didn't like that one bit. That day wasn't all bad though".

"No?".

"Nope. I had to look for you, 'cos no one knew where you'd gone after injecting yourself with Nitroglycerin. And I found you in the shower room, do you remember?", she tapped against his jeans with a finger.

"Yes", he replied. "I told you that I was hallucinating, that I was seeing music". At the word 'hallucinating' a vision of Cameron prone on the surgical bed, clothes in disarray, flashed unbidden through his brain. Another stir, and this one he couldn't blame on the woman in his lap. Well, not directly, anyway.

"Mmm. You were seeing music. And I was seeing…you. I crouched down in front of you to check your pupils with my light. All I could think of was pulling off your towel and straddling you then and there. But I knew you wouldn't let me, bad trip or not. So, I uttered some random shit about our patient and ran out. When I got home that night, I touched myself while thinking of you in that shower room".

House didn't say anything, refusing to give her the satisfaction. But though his mind was strong, the simple fact of having a lithe, beautiful young woman in his lap was beginning to override the command of his brain. Cameron smirked against his chest. House may be a genius, but he was just a man, and she would get her man soon enough. "Anyway", she said, "that's all ancient history now. But it's when I knew".

The nephrologist cleared his throat. "Knew what?".

She sat up in his lap and looked him in the eye. "Knew that I had to have you, no matter how long it took".

House nodded and Cameron could see his blue eyes were lost in some deep reflection. After a few moments, they refocused. "Well, you have me", he replied softly.

"I may have you", she replied, "but now I _want_ you".

It was House's turn to smirk. "It seems you are a woman impossible to please".

The immunologist moved both of her hands to his face. "Oh, you don't know the half of what _pleases_ me, Dr. House. But you'll find out soon enough".

House smiled. "Maybe I will". He dipped his head down to kiss her.

But Cameron brought a finger to his lips. "What do you think you're doing?".

"Kissing you?".

"I think not. You recall my conditions. No kissing before our date tonight".

"What if I say I'm busy with Wilson tonight?".

She raised an eyebrow. "I'd say that's fair enough. Maybe your odds of a happy ending are slightly higher with him than with me".

House stroked his chin. "Fine, I'll go out with you tonight. But I'm deciding what we're doing".

Cameron prodded him in the chest with a finger. "I thought we were watching _Airplane!_ ".

"So, I've decided we're watching _Airplane!_. My place. 1900 hours".

"Roger that". She smiled sweetly and made to rise from his lap, but he held her in place. "What?".

"There's a final item on our agenda. One personal question each. Remember?". House tapped her nose with his thumb.

She smiled. "I remember. And I already have a question to ask you".

"Same".

"Good. I propose we deal with it tonight over dinner at yours".

"That's acceptable". He finally allowed her to slip from his embrace.

"Well, if that's all, Dr. House, I have to go do doctor things for a couple of hours".

The diagnostician inclined his head. "That's all, Dr. Cameron. You may leave". She winked at him and slipped into the shared office, just in time to greet her returning colleagues.

"How was your afternoon?", asked Foreman as he walked to the coffee pot. "Get your case files done?".

"More or less", she replied. "I'll have a coffee if you're making one".

Chase sunk into the seat at the conference table. "You guys want to hear a funny story I heard whilst doing my rounds?".

The pair nodded and looked towards the Australian. "I got it from a lab tech regarding one of their colleagues. Apparently, somebody in the hospital stole this guy's credentials and signed his work computer up to a hardcore porn magazine and companion website. Anyway, he was trying to unsubscribe from their, er, services when Cuddy walked in on her tour of the troops and, well, it wasn't pretty".

"Oh, boy", said Foreman.

"He's OK, though? Like, Cuddy didn't fire him?", Cameron asked from her position by the window.

"Nah. She just boxed his ears, gave him the whole 'inappropriate' speech and landed him with reduced lunch hours for a week".

Cameron nodded. "What was this tech's name?".

Chase ran a hand through his hair. "Michael something, I think. You know him?".

The immunologist accepted her drink from Foreman and hid a grin by taking a sip. "We've met. He's a nice guy".

Chase smirked and sipped his own coffee. "Well, I'll tell you what's _not_ nice – that website he was signed up to. Whoever did that has some twisted sense of humour".

Cameron smiled but said nothing. Her mind was already on tonight.


	35. Cooking for two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In season 6, House becomes a brilliant cook for an episode. I've borrowed the recipes he employs for this chapter. Interestingly, in season 1 he admits to a patient that he only ever uses microwaves. I've tried to resolve these apparent contradictions.
> 
> This and the next chapters belong together, but the titles are different to represent each phase of the date. 

Cameron pulled up to House's apartment block and killed the engine, allowing the silence to wash over her. She leant back in the seat and took a few deep breaths. The nerves settled somewhat, though she could still feel them in the pit of her stomach. She had gone through this whole phase utterly convinced that she and House belonged together. That conviction had only grown as they'd spent time in each other's company. There was still much to learn about him, and it was something that made her excited for the future. All the same, now that she was here, fully aware what the night would bring and how it would end, she couldn't shake her nerves. It was _House_. The man she had wanted for so long. This was only their third date and she knew she was falling for him. The thought caused a flash of adrenaline to surge through her body. _Easy, girl_.

Cameron had no idea if House felt as strongly for her as she did for him. He was a man who hid his emotions well when it was necessary, though she still remembered the look of love he had given Stacey outside her husband's hospital room. Cameron had yet to experience that from him, and it drove her on, made her hungry. This is what Chase hadn't understood at Café Spoleto – he believed her to be infatuated with their boss, like a schoolgirl with a boyband. But it wasn't infatuation. It was everything: sexual desire and lust, yes, but also a yearning for his companionship, his friendship; she wanted to understand and be understood, to learn and to teach. She wanted him to be as comfortable with her as he was with Wilson and Cuddy, and she wanted him to lose control and treat her like a woman.

The immunologist closed her eyes briefly, shutting off these thoughts. She needed to be calm. _You can do this_. With a final nod, she checked her face in the mirror, pulled her cardigan over her shoulders, grabbed her bag and locked the car. She entered the block and walked through the lobby. As she entered his corridor, the most amazing smell wafted through the air. Somebody somewhere was cooking up a storm and it made her a little envious. House was no doubt collecting all his takeout menus and preparing to make the case for Thai over Indian. She smiled at the thought.

But as she approached his end, the smells intensified. Doors went by and still she walked on, led as much by her nose as her feet. Finally, she reached his apartment and, with a feeling of disbelief, knocked on the door. House opened it, wearing a Pink Floyd apron. His jaw dropped and a selection of words came out. "You, er- you, ahem, you look, yes, excellent, very nice".

Cameron smiled under his gaze and self-consciously brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Though she had thought about wearing both the black and red dresses she had decided on neither. Instead she had opted for an asymmetrically strapped navy blue evening dress which reached the floor and had a slit to just above the knee. The silver necklace, which she had decided brought her luck, shimmered against her skin and her hair, which she had straightened for a change, hung loosely around her shoulders. "Thank you. Nice apron. Pink Floyd, eh?".

House kissed her on the lips and accepted the bottle of wine she offered. "Yep. I don't wear it much, but when in Rome and all that. You a Floydy, then?".

Cameron slipped out of her heels and placed them by the door. "I wouldn't say I'm a massive fan, though I still pull out my DVD of the Pulse concert and watch it on full blast when I've had a little too much to drink".

House tilted his head and viewed the woman before him with a new appreciation, still holding the bottle of wine. "1994. Earl's Court, London".

She turned to face him and nodded. "The very one".

"What's your favourite song?".

"Wish You Were Here. You?". House opened his mouth to answer but Cameron held up a hand. "Let me guess…Comfortably Numb".

The tall doctor smirked. "What makes you say that?".

"Are you kidding? It's about drugs, and Gilmour's guitar solo at the end is insane".

Now it was House's turn to nod. "Am I really that transparent?".

Cameron walked up to the other and, as she had done so many times over these last few weeks, met his blue eyes and placed her hands on his face. "Sometimes you are", she conceded. "But sometimes I have absolutely no idea what you're thinking".

"And what about now?", House asked, brushing her cheek with a thumb.

She raised an eyebrow. "Now? Now I think you're thinking about kissing me".

"Wrong. I'm thinking I have to get back to the stove else my ragoût will burn".

The immunologist laughed and followed him into the kitchen. "So. You cook". It was a statement of fact rather than a question because the smells emanating from the man's apartment had dispelled any doubts as to his culinary skill.

House bustled around the bubbling pots on the hob. "I _am_ cooking, but I tend not to – bites into my TV and porn time too much to be a consistent thing. Besides, my efforts are wasted on Wilson. He has the palate of a wet rag".

Cameron leant against the counter and watched him work for a few moments, thoroughly impressed. "It smells incredible. What is it?".

"Ragoût with pork sausage, beef thigh, full cream. And behind door number two there'll be star anise with caramelised onions. The sulphur compounds bring out the meat flavour. We're having it with white rice and steamed vegetables, to avoid taste clashes. And for dessert we have sticky toffee pudding with toffee sauce".

"Wow. And to start?".

"Prawn cocktail. Quick to make, quick to eat". House looked up. "What?".

"House, I…this is amazing. I can't believe you've done all this".

He smiled, but looked down, suddenly bashful. "Yeah, well. I wanted to make something nice".

Cameron's heart melted at his awkwardness. "Well, this is _very_ nice. I bet it tastes great".

"Why wait? Here. I could use a taster, anyway". House picked up the wooden spoon and dipped it in the stew, being careful to take from the cooler surface. He held it towards the other, placing his hand under her chin to catch drippage. "Wait. You aren't allergic to anything are you?".

She placed her hand over his on the handle and winked suggestively. "Nope. I eat _everything_ ".

"Excellent. Verdict?", he asked expectantly.

Cameron said nothing for a few moments, savouring the flavours. "I think that this is the best thing I've ever put in my mouth. And, yes, I'm including what you're thinking of now". House only smirked and held his hands up in mock innocence.

"Anyway, I hope you're hungry. I may have made too much", he said while surveying the scene before them.

"Well, maybe we can have the leftovers for lunch tomorrow. If you want, that is". Cameron moved over to stand next to the other at the hob.

The nephrologist looked at her and grinned. "Sounds like a plan".

"Now that that's sorted, let me help you finish this up. Have you got a spare apron?".

"You don't have to help".

"I want to. Apron?". Cameron stood with hands on hips. House gestured behind her and she located a flowery number which she tied over her dress.

"Well, don't you look like a veritable Martha Stewart", he said with an appreciative tilt of the head.

She laughed. "So, what needs doing, boss?".

"We need wine. Bottle opener is in that drawer, and the glasses are over there".

The immunologist did as instructed and poured them red wine. She handed him one and they clinked glasses. "Cheers". They both took a healthy glug. "Now what?".

House considered the state of the pots. "Time to put the rice on, I reckon".

"I've never been able to master rice, to be honest".

"It's the easiest thing. I'll show you how". House poured some water in the kettle and put it on to boil. "While that's going, hop over here and give the ragoût a stir while I prepare the onions". Cameron took up the wooden spoon and set about stirring the pot while her companion retrieved the onions, a knife and a chopping board. "Put your back into it, woman. Like this". House stood behind her and placed his hand over hers on the spoon, looking over her shoulder as he guided their movements. Since Cameron had removed her shoes and was walking around in bare feet, her head was level with his eyes, and the aroma of her shampoo filled his nostrils. "There, back and forth", he muttered, voice suddenly thick. "Make sure you get the sides so none of it burns".

The feel of House's form behind her, and his head so close to her own, had caused Cameron to turn towards him. "You're not looking at the ragoût", he observed.

"No, I'm not", she whispered.

House could resist no longer and met her gaze. Cameron reached around with her spare hand and pulled him to her lips. He could taste raspberry lip gloss and the fruitiness of the red wine as their tongues jostled. While Cameron's hand tousled his hair, his own journeyed down her body, brushing the sides of her breasts, and kneaded her ass. "Underwear?".

She smiled into his mouth. "That's for me to know, Dr. House, and you to find out".

The diagnostician growled and dropped the wooden spoon so that it rested against the side of the pot. Now with both hands free he wrapped them around Cameron, ensuring that the force of his passion didn't push her against the simmering pans accidentally. This meant that her front was now accessible, and he wasted no time in running a hand up to her breasts and caressing them through the apron, while his other arm remained firmly around her waist, keeping her safely in place. Cameron exhaled and leant back into her boss, pushing her butt against his groin, which elicited another growl. She bit his lip, before tilting her head back and forcing him to give attention to her neck, which he did, leaving little bites and marks in her flesh before once again returning to her mouth. Only the sound of the kettle bubbling aggressively caused them to break apart slowly. House spoke first. "I find you incredibly attractive, Dr. Cameron".

"The feeling is mutual, Dr. House", she replied.

"Mmm. Well, let's finish this off first, shall we?". He turned to retrieve the rice and another pan, while Cameron took a deep breath and composed herself. House cleared his throat. "OK, now listen carefully", he said with mock sternness. The immunologist saluted in response and took up position, ready to follow his instructions. "You fill a cup three quarters with rice. This is a single portion, so let's just call it even and fill the pan with two cups' worth". House stood behind the other, his arms still around her, and watched.

As she moved, he brought his lips to her bare collarbone and kissed her softly. "Done", she replied, pretending that she was unaware and unaffected by his attentions.

"Now pour boiling water in, ensuring that it covers the rice. You want a depth at the top of roughly the length of the top joint of your index finger". House kissed along her shoulder until he met the straps of her dress. Rather than move on, however, he took hold of the strap and pulled it down slightly, giving him complete access to her skin. Cameron sighed softly. "OK. What's next?".

"Put the lid back on, turn the heat up to full, and wait 'til you see the first few bubbles". House pulled the strap down even further, brushing her hair to the side and trailing kisses along the nape of her neck. Cameron closed her eyes briefly, delighting in the coarseness of his stubble. "No", he whispered. "Keep your eyes on the pot. Tell me when it starts bubbling. That's all you have to do".

She opened her eyes unwillingly and leant further back into his chest. "Nothing yet".

The man didn't reply. Instead he carefully replaced the strap and moved to her other shoulder, repeating the treatment, allowing her hair to tangle in his face. When Cameron attempted to take matters into her own hands and shimmy out of the dress, he stopped her with a rumble: "I said no". He nicked her ear lightly with his teeth.

Cameron's breathing was shallow, amazed at her own sensitivity. "It's hot. I mean…there, there are bubbles".

"Good". House replaced the dress strap and ran his hands down her arms. "Now, turn the heat down to one and let it simmer for twenty minutes. Meanwhile I'll whip up the prawn cocktail, caramelise the onions, steam the greens and we should be good to plate up". House moved away with a final kiss to her jaw.

Cameron exhaled and reached out to touch the counter. She located the wine glass and took a fortifying sip, the alcohol's warmth mingling with that already spreading through her body. The date had barely started, and House was already beginning to press buttons.

This was going to be fun.


	36. Free pass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of Schrödinger's Cat, and its application to a romantic relationship, I took from Big Bang Theory. It's probably imperfectly described, but I'm not a physicist. In the series, for obvious reasons, House and Cameron never share extended discussions on feelings. But he does discuss such things with Cuddy in later seasons. I've taken the spirit of these conversations and adapted them for Hameron and my own interests. This chapter is heavy on the dialogue, since there's not much speaking in the ones after this…
> 
> The 'Sebastian Charles' Cameron mentions appears in the season two episode 'TB Or Not TB'. He's cropped up already in the 'Friends' chapter (ch. 13) of this story. It's pretty clear that at this early point, the writers were seriously considering having House and Cameron come together. Unfortunately, by season 3, they decided to go down the utterly predictable and boring route of Cameron/Chase and, inevitably, House/Cuddy. I could write a whole note on why House/Cameron is superior to the others but now is not the time. Maybe when this story eventually finishes and I have a House-sized fanfic hole in my life. But I digress…

"I'm not sure I could eat a single mouthful more". Cameron put down her spoon and sat back in the chair. "That was an amazing meal".

House nodded, scraping the last of his pudding from the bowl. "It really was, wasn't it?".

"I still can't believe that you're able to cook like that. I just assumed that you stuck to microwaves", she said, sipping the last of her wine. They'd shared the bottle between them. Neither of them wanted to drink excessively, aware that the evening's entertainment was far from over. The conversation had been light and unforced. Wilson and Cuddy had been a frequent topic. House spoke a little of his upbringing, and his relationship with his parents. Cameron had met them last year when they had come to the office unexpectedly. At the time, he'd been unwilling for her to spend time with them, but this evening he'd been more open, and Cameron was grateful, recognising that he was slowly beginning to let her into his life.

She, for her part, shared more about her own family. House listened intently, occasionally making a comment or cracking a joke, but in general he was silent. Cameron got the impression she often experienced in their differential diagnoses – that he was devouring every single word and already beginning to make connections and logical leaps. She suspected that by the time they were done, he'd know as much about her circumstances as any previous boyfriend had ever known. It was an exhilarating thought.

"Yeah, like I say, I normally do stick to microwaves. But it's been fun to mix it up for an evening. Are you finished?", he asked. Cameron held her hands up, and House began to take their plates to the counter.

The brunette rose from the table and carried the rest of the debris into the kitchen. "We've made quite a mess", she remarked, placing her hand on the small of his back.

The other chuckled and pulled her close. "Nothing we can't handle tomorrow".

Cameron stepped back for a moment, eyebrow raised. "My, that's very presumptuous of you, Dr. House. What if I'm not the kind of girl to spend the night in a strange man's apartment?".

Again, he pulled her close, looking down into her eyes. "Well, how about this for presumption? Before this night is over, Cameron, I'm going to fuck you. But before I do, I'm going to make you come once, maybe twice". His blue eyes darkened in the manner that was becoming increasingly familiar to the other.

Cameron swallowed and her eyes glazed as she met his gaze. "How?".

Now it was the diagnostician's turn to raise an eyebrow, but rather than reply directly he kissed her on the nose. "But before any of _that_ can happen, we have some unfinished business to take care of".

"Our questions". Cameron cleared her throat and urged her heart to slow.

"Yep, so how about we relocate to the couch?". She smiled at this and nodded, making her way over to sit on the leather sofa. House, meanwhile, moved to the drinks cabinet in the corner. "Whiskey?". Again, she nodded.

As he prepared their drinks she sat back and relaxed, taking in the place her boss called home. The living space was cosy in a subdued sort of way. The floor was of dark wood, though a worn rug lay in the middle of the room, covering much of it. The large sofa upon which she sat faced an expensive-looking television set. The main features, though, were a piano in the corner by the window and two floor to ceiling bookcases. Every surface – the TV stand, coffee table, and armchair - was covered in reading material of various stripes; even the floor had little piles of books hidden away in corners. House often spoke about how much television he watched, but it was clear that many of the volumes were well-thumbed. Although the place was obviously 'House', she noticed that there were few personal objects – no photographs rested on the shelves, and even the large plant in the corner seemed to be there by accident, as if its owner had originally intended it for someone else but promptly forgotten its existence.

The diagnostician ambled over, handed across the drink and sank into the couch next to Cameron. She took a sip before placing the glass on the coffee table and snuggling against the other. The pair remained like this in comfortable silence for a few minutes. At length, House placed his own drink on the table and sat back, looking down at his companion. "So", he said. "Do you want to start or shall I?".

"You can ask me your question first". Cameron pulled her feet up and sat cross-legged on the sofa, facing the other.

The man nodded. "My question is a simple one. I rejected you a while ago; made it clear that I didn't want to be with you even after Stacey left. But as soon as I came back to work you pursued me anyway. Why?".

The immunologist clasped her hands in her lap as she considered how to respond. It was a question she had asked herself many times, and each time the answer was slightly different. There were two parts to the problem, and she started with the first. "When you rejected me, I was disappointed. But I wasn't crushed. I figured that you were just the kind of man who saw women as disposable pleasures rather than meaningful pursuits, and I had no intention of pushing for something that you seemed not to want".

Cameron paused, took a sip of whiskey, and returned House's gaze. "But then I saw the look you gave Stacey from outside her hospital room, and I realised that you _could_ feel love. From then on, I suppose I was caught between two worlds. In one world, I wanted to show you that I wasn't just into you because of a passing crush, that I was committed. When I refused Sebastian Charles, I said that it was because there was no future in it because of his schedule. But really what I meant was that there was no future in _him_ because I already knew who my future was. You can't imagine how much I wanted to tell you this, especially since I knew you were jealous he liked me".

House inclined his head. "Yes, I was jealous".

She continued, looking at the bookcase over House's shoulder: "In the other world, though, I knew that you still thought of me as a girl, immature and unrealistic. As a result, I became more forceful. I slept with Chase, I stood up to you more. I took on Foreman's treatment when he nearly died, even though you wanted it. I tried to show you a different side of me. But then you were shot, and all my plans went out the window". Cameron's gaze flickered, and she again reached for her drink. House said nothing, waiting for her to continue. The clock ticked away in the corner, and the faint thud of dance music echoed in the distance. "The period after your shooting was one of the hardest of my life, House. Whenever I went to sleep, I imagined you lying bleeding on the floor. I had to see a counsellor to get over it, and even now I'm not completely cured". Cameron looked away briefly at this, afraid of showing weakness. But House reached out and took her hand in his.

She continued with renewed confidence. "The whole thing made me realise that life is too short to worry about what _might_ happen, when really I needed to find out what _could_ happen. So, when you eventually came back, I decided to forget subtlety and instead take the plunge. I told myself it would be you or no one. I rejected Chase, and I told you how I felt, not fearing rejection myself; I even kissed you. To answer your question: I pursued you because I wanted you, and the maniac who invaded our office nearly denied me the opportunity. And no one is going to deny me that again". Cameron finished her response and exhaled, glad to be able to confide so deeply in someone who could understand.

House cleared his throat and smiled. "That was a good answer. I give you full marks".

The brunette laughed as the tension fled her limbs. She allowed House a few moments to get comfortable and take a drink, before fixing him with her gaze. Only when he signalled his readiness did she begin. "Your question started with the moment you rejected me. My question also concerns something that happened a while ago. When you came into the lab that day, you asked me why I liked you. Do you remember?".

House smirked. "Is that your question? Because it's a sucky one".

Cameron grinned. "Nope, I just need to know that _you_ know what I'm talking about".

"Fine. Yes, I remember".

"Then you'll recall that I asked you what it was that you wanted to hear when you learnt that I liked you. You didn't answer that day. My question is: what _did_ you want to hear?".

House let out a breath, a half smile playing on his lips. He'd expected her to ask why it was that he'd been receptive to her after the shooting. He'd expected confessing the hallucination. But Cameron was too clever for that. It was typical of her to use her free pass to seek an answer to a question he had intentionally avoided. A deal was a deal, though. He laced his fingers together, looking at the floor as he spoke. "That's a good question, Cameron. The truth is that the answer is complicated".

"I'm not going anywhere, House", she smiled.

"I suppose at the time I didn't know what I wanted to hear". He got up and walked over to the piano. "When you answered my question, you said that you were stuck between two worlds. Well, I was in a similar situation. It was difficult for me, with you. It always has been. You're a beautiful woman. On the one hand, I found you physically attractive. I told you this the first week on the job".

Cameron winked at him. "You said that I was extremely pretty with a stunning little ass".

"Yep. As a _man_ I can say that I wanted to hear that you liked me because you found me attractive as well, that it wasn't one-sided. But the physical things are never enough, and the problem was that you were too nice. I was always afraid that, if we were ever together, I'd ruin you somehow, make you bitter, make you hate me or, worse, make you behave _like_ me. There were so many obstacles in my mind: the age gap, the fact that I was your boss, the fact that I didn't want you to settle for me when there were guys your own age who would chop off their right hand to have a shot with you".

House wandered over to the window and leant against the sill. "But the main thing was that, while I kept you waiting, there would always be the possibility that you liked me for me".

"What do you mean?".

He ran a hand through his hair. "Have you heard of Schrödinger's Cat? The idea that if you put a cat in a box along with a vial of poison and leave it for an hour, you'll have no idea whether the cat is alive or dead until you actually open the box and find out. Consequently, the cat may be thought of as both alive and dead until the lid is lifted and the truth revealed".

Cameron cradled her drink, head tilted. "I'm not sure I follow".

"If I never actually told you I liked you, I would never have to find out if, and _how_ , you liked me back. As with Schrödinger's Cat, both options – that you liked me for me, one, or only had a superficial crush, two – were possible. I could tell myself that you were off limits, but it was mainly because it gave me an excuse never to find out. You said earlier that you took the plunge and told me how you felt. But I never did – I never lifted the lid to find out. To answer your question: I didn't know what I wanted to hear because I had to balance what I _wanted_ you to say with what I feared you _might_ say". House folded his arms from the window.

Cameron thought for a few moments. "I understand. But you say that you were concerned about the depth of my feelings for you. Could it also be that you both wanted and didn't want me to tell you why I liked you because if I never told, you'd not have to go through the pain of possibly hurting me; or the pain of me hurting you. It was safer to avoid the question altogether, so you walked out".

"Yes, that's a fair assessment", House agreed from across the room, intrigued that she had perceived another of his fears: that of feeling pain in all its forms. "It was safer".

The brunette got up from the couch and joined her companion by the window. They looked out on the street together, watching as a mother and father walked either side of their little girl as they crossed the road. "Well", said Cameron finally, eyes on the family below them, "I'm done being safe".

House turned to face her. "I am too".

Cameron's eyes twinkled, and she turned around, scanning the apartment. "So…which way's the bedroom?".


	37. My House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is highly descriptive (long-winded, really) since that's the way I like to write. The sex scenes are equally descriptive (long-winded). This and the following chapters are **pretty raunchy** , containing graphic descriptions of sexual acts. Obviously, this isn't everyone's cup of tea, and for such readers I strongly suggest you give the next couple of chapters a miss.

House led Cameron down the hallway and into his bedroom. As soon as the brunette crossed the threshold, she looked around, taking in the scene before her. What she saw resembled the lounge in many ways: the same dark wood comprised the floor, and there was a giant bookcase against one of the walls. As in the previous room, there was a large rug, but this one seemed oriental in appearance, as if it had come from some far-off bazaar. The space was sparsely furnished, but what there was looked solidly masculine.

Straightaway, Cameron could smell that this was House's personal area, his distinctive musk permeating the air. The bed was large, and despite the subdued lighting she could make out ornate carvings in the wood at its foot and head. As she had done previously, she thought him akin to a big cat or some other predator, and she was entering his lair, a willing prey. The thought made her shiver with anticipation. "Your room is exactly as I imagined", she said softly, more to herself than to him.

House watched as she made a slow circuit, tracing her hand over the furniture. "You've imagined being in my room?".

"Yes", she replied simply, "I have". The other said nothing, allowing her to satisfy her curiosity. Eventually the immunologist made it back to stand before House, who had remained leaning against the wall by the door. She laced her arms over his shoulders. "This room is very 'House'. I like it. Where did you get the rug and bed?".

"Egypt and Japan". As the nephrologist had watched Cameron take her tour, he had eyed her form in the navy blue dress. She had taken her heels off as soon as she'd entered his apartment, likely out of consideration for his floor. As a result, she was now barefoot, and he could see that she'd painted her toenails black to match her fingernails. The dress brushed the wood, but it hugged her figure, accentuating her butt especially. The slit in the fabric was tastefully cut, but even so he could glimpse the pale skin beneath. Next, his gaze had taken in the swell of her breasts and the way her necklace caught the light. Finally, he had dwelt on her face, which was fixed in an expression of curiosity as she had explored: her glossy hair, normally either wavy or tightly coiled for practical reasons, was straight as it framed her eyes, which bore only a trace of subtle makeup, as did her lips. House hadn't been lying when he'd told Cameron that she was a beautiful woman, and such beauty had no need of cosmetics.

She tilted her head. "What are those blue eyes thinking?".

Rather than reply directly, House pulled her into a deep kiss, running his hands through the hair that enchanted him, before settling at her waist. Cameron responded immediately, forcing her tongue into his mouth. She placed her fingers at his open collar, before bringing the other hand to his cheek. "They're wondering", he rumbled, "if what lies beneath that dress feels as good as it looks".

"Why don't you go ahead and find out?", she whispered.

"Turn around".

Cameron raised an eyebrow, but nevertheless did as she was told. House placed his hands on her waist and applied pressure, manoeuvring her until she faced the long mirror positioned on the wall. As the immunologist faced forwards, she could see House standing over her shoulder. "Stay still", he spoke into her ear. "Keep your hands at your side". The brunette swallowed at his commanding tone and the feel of his breath and stubble caused adrenaline to shimmer through her system.

Just like he had done earlier in the evening, the man began to kiss along her shoulders, moving slowly and deliberately as he brushed her hair out of the way. Again, as he reached the strap of her dress, he slipped a finger underneath and pulled it down. Cameron yearned to reach behind and press his mouth more firmly against her skin, but she resolved to savour House's attentions, even if it took all of her willpower simply to remain still. In the kitchen, House had replaced the strap, but now he left it down, before repeating the motion on the other shoulder.

Cameron sighed softly as she watched her lover in the mirror place kisses and bites from her shoulder to her ear and jaw. "Here's what's going to happen, Dr. Cameron", House growled as he slowly freed her arms. The dress was now held to her body loosely by the discreet zip at the back. "You've been coming to my office when the others have been away, sitting in my lap, pretending innocence…". The woman turned her head towards House, trying to catch his lips as he was talking, but he had already sensed her movement and darted back to her right shoulder. "But this is _my_ house, and you're in _my_ room. So tonight, we will be playing by _my_ rules". He looked straight into the mirror, holding her gaze. "Is that clear?".

Cameron's heart was beating out of her chest and her breathing was already shallow. She had always been attracted to House's power, and here his strength was unbelievably sexy. The woman exhaled. "Yes", she replied thickly.

"I didn't catch that".

"Yes", she tried again.

"Good. Keep your eyes open, facing forwards". House moved a hand to the zipper and pulled it slowly. Pale, unblemished skin gradually revealed itself to his eyes. In the mirror, Cameron could see, and feel, the dress loosen, though it remained in place. Her eyelashes fluttered as a slight draught from the window brushed against the newly exposed skin. Further down the zip went, and a black strapless bra emerged. By the time House reached the small of her back, only the swell of Cameron's breasts kept the silk from tumbling to the floor. With a deliberate movement, House took hold of the dress straps and looked into the mirror, over the other's shoulder. The woman swallowed again. Without saying anything, he released his hold and gravity did the rest.

House's eyes were fixed on the reflection as they drank in the sight of Cameron's nearly naked body. She was flawless. Her necklace reached almost to her breasts, which were still hidden underneath the lace. His eyes roved downwards, taking in her flat stomach and the tiny freckle below her belly button. Despite her slender build, her hips were deliciously feminine, and their curve was emphasised by a matching black thong. It took all of his mental strength not to drag his eyes from the mirror and glance down to her ass, which he knew would be all but bare. Cameron, who had seen House's eyes travel the length of her body, blushed under the intensity of his gaze. She had only observed a similar expression on him once before, when he had dropped by the apartment the morning after their encounter in his office. He looked hungry, and Cameron averted her eyes, suddenly unable to meet his in the glass.

"Look at yourself, Cameron. Look at how gorgeous you are", House reached around, and gently tilted her chin up. She smiled at him, but remained quiet, unwilling to shatter the spell, unwilling to say anything that might cause the delightful feelings building in her core to subside. "So beautiful", House murmured, as if to himself. Without breaking eye contact in the mirror, he brought his hands to her breasts and caressed them gently with the tips of his fingers, still over the black fabric. The other closed her eyes involuntarily and pushed her chest forwards, desiring more friction. "I told you to stand still and keep your eyes open". He nicked her ear with his teeth. "Don't make me ask you again, OK?". This second warning was delivered against her neck, his stubble scratching lightly against her skin.

"'kay", she whispered. Even enunciating a reply was difficult, so heightened were her senses. Already she was beginning to realise that House was going to be exceptional; he was going to play her like a piano. _God, he's so sexy_. It was becoming abundantly clear why, despite all the idiosyncrasy and the rudeness, he never seemed to lack for female company. He had barely touched her, hadn't even fully undressed her, was actually still fully clothed himself, and already she was tingling.

As if reading her mind, House's right hand began to slip downwards, his long fingers splayed, covering much of her midriff. Years of guitar strumming and professional use had made them calloused, and they contrasted starkly with the skin upon which they travelled. Cameron's eyes traced his progress in the mirror and her breathing quickened as he passed her navel, already anticipating his touch. With no warning, House's other hand, which had remained on her breasts, pinched a nipple through the flimsy material. A flash of pain and adrenaline pierced the fog of lust and she groaned, fighting to remain still as he had asked. Behind her, House gave a rumble of approval. "Good girl. I think you've earned a reward". His fingers had reached the waistband of her panties. Cameron opened her mouth to say something, but no words came. She could feel her heart beating in her ears. _You're almost there. A little bit lower. Please._

His fingers edged just under the elastic but remained there, frozen in place. In the mirror, Cameron could see the lace of her thong hiding the tips of his fingers. He needed to finish; he was so close. He had to give her release. _You promised a reward_. Cameron's eyes darted up to meet House's: they were burning, and she could detect a half smile on his lips. "Please", she whispered.

The man raised an eyebrow. "Please what?".

"Please, just do it". Her voice emerged as a hiss and goose bumps appeared on her skin. The memory of the last time she had been in this position with him in the office flashed through her mind. She had asked him to touch her and he had refused with a smirk. She couldn't, wouldn't, take another refusal. Not now. _I'll beg him if I have to, I don't care_.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to be specific, Dr. Cameron. I'm not a mind reader". House was careful to ensure that the signs of his own arousal were kept under control. His eyes had never left those of the woman before him, though his left hand slid to the clasp of her bra.

"I want you to touch me now. Please-".

Before she had finished her sentence, House moved his hand down and, without preamble, slipped a finger inside, drawing a gasp of startled satisfaction. At the same time, his left hand nimbly released the catch and the lacy undergarment fell to the floor. Now that her breasts were free, he caressed them, pulling lightly on the hard pink nipple atop each, using the mirror and Cameron's own shuffles as a lead. Meanwhile, his finger worked up a steady pace. "You're very wet, Cameron", he observed in a low voice. "How long have you been waiting for me to do this? All evening? Longer? Well, I'm not fucking you until I feel you come on my fingers".

"Oh, God". The woman's eyes were screwed shut and she leant back into the other, head thrown back so that her hair lay strewn over his shoulders and chest. She couldn't have stayed still even if she wanted to as House deftly inserted a second finger and doubled down into a consistently deep repetition, curving his fingers a little to create friction against her inner wall. "Fuck", Cameron uttered as she struggled to contain the double stimulation to her chest and groin, each penetration accompanied by an audible squelch. House angled his right hand to ensure that, depending on the woman's small movements, either his thumb or the heel of his palm impacted against her tiny bud. This action caused another groan, and her right hand travelled down of its own accord, manipulating his fingers, forcing them to touch her as she wanted. "House…", she whispered. "Yes. Yes, like that. Don't stop. Please…". She pressed against her clit with his thumb as his fingers continued their work.

Now that he had Cameron as a guide, House at last withdrew his gaze from the mirror, and concentrated on the rest of her body as best he could. This position was incredibly sensual: it gave him an excellent angle of penetration while also ensuring that he could fully support her weight against his chest. Nevertheless, it made other things difficult. He wanted above all to take her breasts in his mouth, but his current position made it impossible. Fortunately, Cameron seemed to sense that his tongue was idle and turned her face to the side, meeting him in a hungry kiss. While her right hand rested atop House's, guiding his movement, she brought her left up to run through his hair, thrusting her chest as far into his roaming left hand as possible. "Unnhh. More. Yessss", Cameron gasped, meeting his fingers with thrusts of her own.

"Fuck, you're soaking wet, Cam", House muttered, pinching her nipples, which were now rock hard. He could feel her juices all over his hand. As he called her by the shortened name, her pussy tightened against his fingers which made it harder to maintain the rhythm as steadily as he wanted. He therefore brought his left hand down and used it to pull her thong away from her body, granting them more space. Now finally free to move, House focused completely on giving her maximum stimulation from his fingers as they thrust in and out. "Listen, Cameron", House growled into her mouth, as he began to pick up the pace, bottoming out with each entry. "Listen to us". He glanced back into the mirror and saw Cameron, completely naked except for the flimsy underwear, open her mouth in a groan.

"House…God. I just, I need…I'm nearly…". Cameron gave up trying to talk properly and instead began bucking her hips and nicking his lip with her teeth. Neither noticed the black lace tear a little, and even if they had, they wouldn't have cared.

"That's it, girl. Let yourself go. I've got you", House whispered as he kissed along her jaw and neck, hammering as fast and deep as he could, ignoring the screaming muscles in his wrist and palm. He had no intention of swapping his hands over and potentially disrupting her looming climax. He let go of her thong and used his left hand instead to bear down hard on her clit.

"House…it's, I'm….". Cameron's ragged breathing prevented anything more, and she sank backwards as her legs began to give.

"I've got you". House grimaced and took an earlobe in his teeth. This extra stimulation pushed Cameron over the edge, and the noises of joy which had been leaving her mouth for the past twenty minutes momentarily stopped as a powerful orgasm pulsed through her body, from her core to her toes. House glanced into the mirror and saw her eyes shut and mouth frozen in an expression of pure bliss as she rode the wave, sagging fully into his chest as her legs momentarily turned to jelly. He knew that the reflection of Cameron climaxing would remain imprinted on his brain for a long time. Rather than withdraw his fingers immediately, he continued to move in and out as she came down gradually.

At last, Cameron opened her eyes, took a few shuddering breaths, and found the other's lips. "House, that was…I've never come like that on a guy's fingers before".

House smiled, and finally removed his hand, which was slick with her juices. "Then you've had some pretty useless boyfriends".

"It would appear so", she agreed. If someone were to tell her that she would have no other boyfriends than House for the rest of her days, she would have been utterly contented. As it was, she refrained from saying anything else, in case she ruined the moment. She turned around to face the other and cupped his face. "Are you OK?", she asked, noticing the sheen of sweat on his brow and his slightly laboured breathing.

House grinned and rested his own hands at her waist. "I'm fine; just need a second to catch my breath".

"I have a better idea. See, I can't help but notice that I am almost completely naked while you, sir, are still fully clothed. I don't mind doing this your way, but I think it's your turn now". Cameron's eyes flashed as her fingers trailed lazily to his belt.

"Hmm". House thought about it for a second. "I had hoped to taste you, though", he said matter-of-factly.

At that, Cameron could feel her body gearing up for the second round. "The night's still young, _Gregory_. I don't want to break the House rules but let me do something for you now. Please…", the woman pouted, though she didn't attempt to loosen his belt. This was his turf and she wanted his go-ahead.

House growled at the casual use of his first name, and he fixed the immunologist with a gimlet-eyed stare. She refused to look away. "Alright", he said after a few moments, allowing her to take him by the hand.

The night was still young after all and there was so much more to be done.


	38. Fifty shades of blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The previous chapter focused on Cameron. This one focuses on House. What follows is, you guessed it, pretty graphic. If this isn't your thing, maybe don't read this one. 
> 
> I'm not a fan of the Cuddy and House romance arc (surprise!), but there's a sweet moment between them in the first scene of the first episode of season 7. I've borrowed some of it for this chapter.

Cameron led House to the middle of the room and turned to face him, looking up into the inky blue of his eyes. Although she knew it to be impossible and more to do with the light in whatever room they occupied at the time, part of her imagined that the colour of his eyes changed depending on his mood. When he was playful or sarcastic, they seemed lighter, almost turquoise, like the shallow waters off a Caribbean island. When he was angry or seductive, they turned dark and brooding like a storm-lashed ocean. Cameron delighted in these little nuances since they were just a fraction of what made House who he was; and if he'd let her, she'd happily spend a lifetime chronicling each subtle shade.

The immunologist pulled him into a kiss, running her hands through the stubble on his cheeks. His hands dropped to her ass, which was scarcely covered by the black thong. After a moment, her fingers slipped to the buttons on his shirt. "This is a nice shirt, House. It looks good on you – but it would look better on the floor". She popped the first couple of buttons and kissed him again, while his right hand travelled up her back. Cameron had been nearly naked for some time, and the tiny hairs on her skin stood on end as she anticipated the movements of his hand, which was still sticky from her own arousal. The man himself said nothing, allowing her the initiative while his breathing returned to normal.

The brunette's fingers moved down, popping buttons as they went. She withdrew slightly so as better to see her progress. When she reached the last couple, she untucked the shirt, feeling the soft down at his navel, and slowly pushed it from his shoulders. Her gaze flickered as she drank in the sight of the man's upper body. His skin was bronzed and unblemished, except for an angry white scar on his stomach where the bullet had entered. Light hairs stood up around his abdominal and pectoral muscles, and she could see veins crisscrossing down his biceps and forearms. Looking was no longer enough, and Cameron placed both of her hands on his chest and felt the sinews flex. He was so… _masculine_. She took a breath and looked up. House's eyes were hooded and dark. Still he remained silent.

Cameron, again, kissed him on the mouth. But this time she moved downwards, nicking his neck with her teeth, before travelling to his chest, feeling the soft hairs against her tongue and lips. House, whose breathing had returned to its normal rate, was gradually beginning to respond to her attentions, her hair brushing against his abdomen causing him to exhale. She kissed lightly down his chest, stopping momentarily to bite a nipple, which elicited a growl. Cameron smiled against his skin and continued her journey, dropping to a crouch as she reached his belt. As soon as she began unbuckling it, though, his hands fell to hers, preventing further progress. "Hey, you're not gonna…I don't…", he muttered.

Cameron looked up at him. The eyes which had radiated power only thirty minutes ago were filled with vulnerability and uncertainty. _His leg_. He was worried about showing her his leg. "House", she whispered, brushing her lips against the back of his hand, "it's OK, it's OK. You don't have to hide from me. We're in this together, remember? I promise you; we'll do this nice and slow". His hands tentatively withdrew, and Cameron carefully pulled off the belt and unsnapped his pants. She reached around and pulled them down, lifting his ankles, and placed them to the side, after which she removed his socks. She couldn't help but notice how large his feet were. _What do they say about men with big feet?_ The reflection caused her to swallow.

House was now naked except for his boxer shorts. The woman ran both hands up his legs, but as she reached his thighs, she could feel him tense up, and his hands balled into fists at his side. Cameron, still crouched on the floor, laced her fingers through his and gazed upwards. His eyes were screwed shut and his breathing irregular. "House", she whispered. "Look at me". He did so, almost timidly. "Do you trust me?".

"Yes". His voice was low.

"Then believe me when I tell you…", Cameron kissed his right knee, "…that I think Gregory House is a beautiful man…", she kissed up to the edge of the mangled skin, just under the boxer shorts, "…with an injury that is part of, but does not define, him…", she breathed lightly against the scarred tissue, "…with a girlfriend who would desire him as much as she does now even if he had one leg…", she gently kissed the area, "…or no legs". She held his hands tightly as she carefully kissed every centimetre of the wrinkled scar. House gradually relaxed and let out a breath, his eyes swimming with an emotion she couldn't identify. _Shade number four: enigmatic blue_. "Are you OK?", she asked.

"Yes", he replied, making to pull her to her feet.

But Cameron had other ideas and remained crouched. "Well, if you're OK, then I'd like to scratch an itch I've had for a while".

"Oh, yeah?", he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yep". She suppressed a smile. _Two can play this game_. "Go and sit on the edge of your bed". A rumble escaped his throat at her tone, but he nevertheless obeyed the instruction. Cameron eased to her feet, naked apart from the thong, and slowly walked towards him. "I'm going to confess something to you now, House. A little while ago, you asked me what my fantasies were, and I said that you'd have to find them out for yourself". She didn't break eye contact as she moved, and House could see the gentle sway of her hips in his peripheral vision. "But, because I'm feeling charitable, I'll reveal a couple to you". The man swallowed but said nothing. "Both are very simple", she continued. "The first involves you pulling me into your office, bending me over your desk, and fucking me from behind while we're still fully clothed", she uttered the words in a matter-of-fact tone, as if she were delivering a diagnosis to a patient.

He remained rooted to the edge of the bed and gripped the duvet either side as Cameron approached. "The second is much easier to accommodate, since I don't care where it happens, as long as it does. I dream about you a lot, House. I already told you that I've experienced nightmares of your shooting. Not nice". The brunette reached the bed and stood before the other, looking down at him. "But most of my dreams concerning you are very nice indeed. They're also specific".

"Is that so?", House replied thickly, and he glanced down her body, taking in her breasts and even the slight tear in the fabric of her panties which he had caused earlier.

"Those aren't my eyes, House", Cameron reached out and forced his face upwards. "I want you to look at me when I'm talking to you". Again, his gaze flickered at her commanding tone. "As I was saying…my dreams: obviously, a lot of them involve us having sex in various positions in various places. Pretty standard stuff, really. But _one_ of them doesn't involve sex at all. Or, well, not sex in the, ah, strictest medical sense". Cameron leant forwards so that her hands rested on his shoulders. Not only did this movement cause her hair to hang down and brush against his chest and arms, it also drew his attention once more to her breasts and their proud pink nipples. "No. Look up, Dr. House. It's _my_ turn now", Cameron stated, though her firm voice belied the racing of her heart, and she forced herself to breath regularly. House did as he was told but his eyes were as dark as she'd seen them. _Shade number twelve: midnight blue._

"This particular fantasy…", Cameron whispered in his ear, trailing her hands from his shoulders to his chest, to his thighs, "…involves me on my knees in front of you…", her fingers slipped to the waistband of his boxer shorts, "… _worshipping_ your cock". She looked straight into his eyes as she spoke before kneeling between his legs.

The man swallowed. "You don't need to do that".

She looked up under hooded lashes, but not before noticing a twitch beneath the cotton. "Ah, see, that's where you're wrong. This is in fact something that I do need to do, and I've needed to do it for…", she tapped a finger against her lips as she thought, "…a year and a half? Give or take a month". Another twitch. "Will you let me do this? Will you let me live my fantasy?". She recognised that he would only consent if he truly was ready to bare his damaged leg to her.

"Alright", House replied, clearing his throat. "On one condition".

"Name your terms".

"After you get what you want, I'm back in control for the rest of the night". The diagnostician loved Cameron's seductiveness, but it wouldn't do to have her calling the shots. This was his house, after all.

The woman smirked at him but inclined her head in assent. "Deal. Toss me that pillow". House handed her the cushion and she placed it under her knees; then he lifted a little from the bed and she finally released him from the confines of his underwear, her tongue darting out a little to moisten her lips as she examined the object of her desire. Straightaway she knew that House was bigger than any man she'd been with, even though he was not yet fully hard. She looked up at him and he looked back with dark eyes. Cameron reached out and grasped his length, unable to resist any longer, feeling the smooth skin, observing the veins, as she completed an exploratory movement. Once more her tongue ran along her lips, but for the moment she was content simply to touch as she became accustomed to his feel.

House looked down as the brunette carried out her initial reconnaissance, enjoying the warmth of her hand and the knowledge that, for once, the woman before him was not being paid to service his needs. Hookers, obviously, were good at what they did, but their sighs of appreciation were directly proportional to the amount of money on the table. Here, though, he could detect the same look of intense curiosity on Cameron's face as he had seen all the other times she had experienced something new that was his: when she had examined his bookcase on their second date; when she had listened to him talk about his family; when she had entered his bedroom. All of it had given her more of an insight into his being. The only difference this time was that the focus of her curiosity was, quite literally, _him_.

Just as House had done to her not thirty minutes ago, Cameron began to work up a steady rhythm, twisting her hand a little to create a different angle, feeling how his body responded to each little adjustment. When she caressed him deliberately from root to tip, a rumble escaped his throat. Cameron looked up, eyebrow raised, but said nothing, filing it away for future reference. When she thought him suitably hard, she sat back a little for a proper look. "You have a beautiful cock, Dr. House".

"I'm not a piece of meat, Cameron", he growled.

"Oh, but you are. And I'm going to eat you now", she whispered, looking straight into his eyes as she spoke. With that brief warning, her tongue flicked against the exposed head and House exhaled, leaning fully forwards to watch the woman as she spent a few moments on the tip, before slowly drawing her tongue along his entire length, not breaking eye contact, her hands gripping his hips. Only when he was slick all over did she return once more to the head, using the tip of her tongue to swirl lightly around its circumference, tasting the first drops of his fluid. "You're pretty good at this", House muttered.

"Oh, please. I'm just getting warmed up", she replied. With one final lick, she brought her right hand up and began to roll up and down his length for a time, ensuring that he was properly lubricated. She brushed him against her tongue, then her lips, before once more meeting his eyes, drawing the flat of her tongue slowly from balls to tip. House exhaled and reached out to run his hands through her hair. She looked up. "Tell me what you want me to do, House".

"You know exactly what I want you to do".

"I do. And I want you to tell me anyway", she whispered.

"I want you to suck me, Cameron", he growled, tightening his grip in her hair.

The brunette at once engulfed him, taking as much as she dared, using her tongue to manipulate his length, alternatively flicking him against her teeth and the roof of her mouth, ensuring that her hand kept up a steady rhythm. House released a groan at this sudden act, amazed that she was able to accept so much of him so quickly. But his amazement quickly turned to lust as the other began to get into her work, bobbing up and down on his shaft, sometimes pulling him deep, at others contenting herself with massaging the head just inside her lips. After a few minutes, Cameron drew back. "Is this what you want, Dr. House? Me on my knees in front of you like this?". His cock leapt against her cheek and she rewarded him by drawing her teeth delicately along his length. "Answer me".

"Yes". He looked down and for once his eyes had lost their playful irony. _Shade number twenty-three: wine-dark blue._

"Well, you could have had this the night we saw monster trucks, and every night afterwards. All you had to do was ask. Did you know that?". She took him deep once again, relaxing her throat and breathing through her nose.

"God…", murmured House as his hips twitched of their own accord and his hands brushed her long hair away from her face so that he could meet her eyes with his.

"I'm not God, House. I'm Cameron. I'm also your willing...little...slut". With that, she worked up a serious pace, using one hand to jerk him fully into her mouth while her other caressed his balls. She could feel how hard he was, and it made her feel incredibly sexy. She had always loved giving head, though she had not had the chance, or the inclination, to do so for a long time. Now finally she was free to indulge herself once more, and this man's cock was certainly worth the effort. The reflection that it would soon be fucking her caused a hand to slip down to her clit.

House could feel the familiar signs building, and he attempted to slow his racing heart and control his breathing, attempted to think of anything else but the reality; the reality that his immunologist was feasting on his dick. But Cameron had other ideas, and she popped him free, while still working him furiously with her hand. "You can delay it all you like, House, but you should know by now that I'm a patient woman, and I always get what I want, no matter how long it takes". Her warm mouth enveloped him again, forcing his length to the back of her tongue.

House exhaled loudly as she took hold of his hand and placed it on a breast. She released him again: "And right now, what I want is for you to come in my mouth". The other's breathing grew increasingly laboured, and Cameron capitalised on her opportunity by alternating licks and sucks with aggressive movements of her hand, as if to coax out that which she wanted the most. House's mind was strong, but as the minutes passed he could feel his defences begin to collapse as the twofold stimulation of the woman's mouth and hands, as well as the feel of her rock hard nipples under his palm, caused the wave to build. "Cameron…", he breathed.

The brunette rested his length against her cheek and jerked him for all she was worth. "That's it; don't fight anymore, House. Let it happen. Give me what I want".

The man, whose eyes had been shut momentarily, looked down again and saw her green eyes gazing upwards, tendrils of saliva dripping from her mouth onto the floor. She looked wanton. This was the final push, and he reached the point of no return with a loud groan. Cameron was already in position, however, and she quickly caught him in her mouth as his cock pulsed, using her hand to pump him empty. She allowed him to sink deep, relaxing fully and breathing steadily through her nose, swallowing all that she could as House lost himself in blissful release. Only when she felt the contractions subside did she free him from her mouth, licking gently along his shaft, taking care to avoid the sensitive head.

House took a few deep breaths before pulling Cameron up until they were both standing. He wiped her lips and chin with his thumb. "That was pretty great. Thank you", he said before kissing her tenderly, tasting himself on her tongue.

The immunologist smiled into his mouth. "Believe me, the pleasure was all mine". She accepted a swig of water from the glass on the bedside table before handing it back. House laughed and pushed her onto the bed before jumping onto it himself. The pair lay side by side looking at each other. "Now what shall we do?", she asked.

The other grinned, and his eyes twinkled. _Shade number forty: crystal blue_. "Now? Now we can have sex, duh". He made a show of glancing down. "In a few minutes, anyway".

It was Cameron's turn to laugh, and she stretched out on the bed, twining her legs in his. This was where she belonged.


	39. Academic curiosity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally wrote one extremely long chapter, but I've decided that it was too long and have cut it in half. I hope the ending of this artificial entry is not too dissatisfying – it will conclude properly! Sexy stuff ahead etc. etc.

The pair were lying side by side on the bed. "Can I ask you something?", said Cameron, looking up at the ceiling.

"Given what you just did for me, I'll allow it. But if you're thinking of trading sexual favours for questions…then I'm totally on board", replied House, who had closed his eyes for a few moments.

The brunette snorted but carried on with her question. "What's the deal with you and Cuddy?".

"What do you mean?".

Cameron tried to think how to frame the question without sounding jealous. "Like, what's the _deal_? It's just that sometimes I feel there's crazy sexual tension between the two of you".

House's hand slipped to his side and took hold of the other's. "Well, sure, but I can't control my raw erotic charm".

"I'm serious, House".

"OK, OK. I suppose that's a fair assessment. But if you're going off sexual tension alone, then I'd say we have that base covered ourselves. Most of the last two years were spent eye-sexing with you".

"I can agree there, but still". Cameron sighed, though she was committed now. "I guess I feel that given your chemistry you'd happily go for her if I was out of the picture".

"Why would you think that?", asked House, genuinely curious.

"Come on", the immunologist turned to face him. "You go way back, you have so much in common, plus she's really hot _and_ successful professionally". As she listed off these qualities her face fell a little, the reality of her apparent failings relative to their boss hitting home.

"Everything you say is true, Cameron. But you're forgetting one thing".

"What's that?", she asked, even more self-conscious now that he had agreed with everything she'd said.

House turned his face towards the other. "Cuddy isn't you".

"No, she's better than me in every way", she replied, hating herself for her insecurity.

"Listen. Cuddy's great; she's one of my best friends, and I've known her since college. But because I've known her that long, she's more like a sister, maybe even an aunt". House brushed a thumb against her cheek. "But more importantly, when I see her, I don't feel a rush; I don't feel excited; I don't feel _aroused_. When I see you, I feel all these things. You've no idea how many times I've wanted to rip your white coat off, throw you on to the conference table, and…well, you get the picture". Cameron's gaze flickered, but she remained silent as he continued: "Yet for all that physical stuff, I also feel excited about seeing where this can go. It's a sea of possibility that we can sail together. And that's the truth".

"OK, House. If you care enough to use 'sea of possibility' in a sentence, then I'll accept your explanation at face value". Cameron kissed his hand and held it against her cheek, delighted that he seemed also to be open to a long-term relationship.

House smirked. "Now that that's sorted, I want to ask _you_ something".

"Go ahead", she smiled.

"I want you to tell me _exactly_ why you think Cuddy is hotter than you". House's eyes were darkening, and his voice had deepened.

Cameron noticed the subtle change in his expression and tone. She swallowed. "I didn't say she was hotter than me. I just said she was really hot".

"What, are you a lawyer? The implication was that you compared yourself to her. I'd like to hear a few of these comparisons".

"Why?", she asked.

"Call it academic curiosity". House propped up on an elbow and levelled his gaze at the other, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Cameron could feel her face blush and her heart beat faster. He was looking at her hungrily again; his mouth was open slightly, and she could make out the creases at the corner of his eyes and the veins in his neck. House was back in charge: he was the predator and she was the prey. She moistened her lips a little. "I suppose I wish I had her tan. I think my skin is too pale". The statement emerged in a voice suddenly thick with increasing excitement. It no longer surprised her that House could turn her on so quickly. With him, it seemed, she was resigned to being especially sensitive.

House dipped his head and kissed her jaw, then her neck, then the area between her breasts. After this he moved downwards, shifting into a more comfortable position over the other, planting kisses on her stomach before circling the well of her belly button with his tongue. "This skin, you mean?", he murmured, looking up her body.

"Yes", she whispered, glancing down to meet his eyes over the rise and fall of her chest, closing her eyes briefly at the scratch of his stubble. House's hand slipped to rest flat against her stomach.

"Hmm. Well, I'm no dermatologist, Cameron…", he began, before kissing right to the edge of the black laced underwear, "but I think…", he continued, carefully avoiding her panties, but continuing to kiss from just under the seam, along her inner thigh to her knee, while his hand roamed down the other leg, "…that your skin is perfect just the way it is". As he spoke, he could see the tiny hairs stand on end. "What other comparisons do you have?", he asked, sliding back up her body but, once again, purposely avoiding brushing against her groin or her breasts.

"I..I wish I had Cuddy's full, jet black hair. Mine is too plain", Cameron muttered, feeling her heart thud in her ears. House manoeuvred up so that his face was millimetres away, his shocking blue eyes boring into her own. But before she could even think about kissing him, he winked, and moved up to brush his lips against her forehead, before travelling to her ear, which he took in his teeth for a moment.

Cameron exhaled and moved to grasp his length reflexively, but he took her hand in his and placed it to the side. "Not yet", he growled, burying his face in her hair, breathing deeply, while a hand travelled up and entwined itself in the long brown locks that lay fanned around the pillow. "Again, I'm no expert, but I know enough to say that every time your chocolate hair shimmers in the light, it takes my breath away, Cameron. Though I imagine it would do that whatever colour it was, if that's what you fear. Anything else?".

"I wish…", Cameron began, noticing that House's hand rested just on the waistband of her thong. If he slipped down a little more, he'd find her to be wet already. _God, he's barely touching you_. "I wish…".

"Don't be shy", he breathed, brushing against her lips, before nicking her chin delicately. "Tell me. Let me put your mind at ease".

"Sometimes I wish I had her breasts. I think mine…are too small". She blushed, whether out of embarrassment or arousal she couldn't tell.

"Hmm", rumbled House. "There's no embarrassment within these walls, Cameron. I've shown you my leg, the one part of my body I'm most self-conscious about. If we're going to be together, we have to commit fully; we have to be honest. Do you agree?".

"Yes", she whispered. It was typical of House to banish her insecurity in a way that heightened rather than dampened the mood.

"Good. Now, seeing as you confided your fantasy in me earlier, I feel it's only fair that I confide one in you". House moved so that he rested over her body, using his arms as support. "You mentioned earlier that you thought Cuddy and I had a lot in common. As it happens, though, _we_ have something in common. Like you, I've often dreamt of us fucking, as you put it, in various positions in various places; and, like you, one of my fantasies is specific. Would you like to hear it?". Cameron nodded, filling her eyes with his rugged features.

"One of our earliest cases together, there was a young guy with subacute sclerosing panencephalitis…". At this, adrenaline flushed through her system as she realised what he was about to say. "…I don't normally remember individual cases that we solve, only the ones that we fail to solve. But this one success is burned into my brain, not because of the medicine, but because of you". At this, House once more began to move down her body, speaking against her skin. "I remember you had on a black blouse, a blue cardigan, and _this_ necklace". House snagged the silver chain in his teeth, pinching her skin a little. "You said just now that our monster trucks evening was the trigger. But for me, this outfit was the trigger. It's when I discovered something", he edged further down.

"What?", Cameron breathed, running a hand through his hair.

"It's when I discovered that I was going to be in trouble with you, firstly; and secondly, when I discovered that I just _had_ to have these breasts, which you seem not to like, in my mouth".

"House…".

"Cameron, I know I said I was going to taste you, but the truth is I can't wait much longer". He lifted his head up and winked at her. "I'm gonna have to give you a partial chest examination for now then, if the first course of treatment is successful, move on to a full body workup next time. Deal?".

"Deal", the brunette sighed softly as she brought her other hand to rest in his hair, anticipating his attention.

"Then I suggest you lie back and relax". With this, House drew his tongue from the necklace down her upper chest, leaving a trail of saliva in his wake. Cameron shivered a little as it dried, though it was more to do with the thrill of anticipation than the cold. House made slow progress, passing through the valley between her breasts with one continuous movement, allowing his stubble to catch against her skin but as yet not touching anything else. His hands remained planted on the bed either side. His tongue stopped midway towards her navel and lifted, before running horizontally across the breadth of her ribcage. Cameron did nothing except close her eyes and keep a hand loosely entwined in his hair.

Having marked out his area of focus, House moved back up her body. "I can taste coconut".

"Yes". She cleared her throat. "Coconut cream. My shower gel".

"Yummy", he replied. Cameron didn't say anything further, and she tilted her head up to watch under hooded lashes as House once more licked with the flat of his tongue down from her neck, over the silver chain. Rather than continue towards her navel like before, he veered to one side and this time used just the tip of his tongue to caress the pale flesh of her right breast, intentionally keeping the contact feather-light, and avoiding the peak of her nipple.

Once the area was slick with saliva he moved over to the other breast, again ignoring the hard pink nub. His hands hadn't moved from the side of the bed. Cameron's chest rose and fell, and she kept her own hand on his head, allowing him time to complete his explorations, forcing herself not to rush. Her other dropped to the side and rested over House's, which rested flat against the bed. "Very nice", House whispered. "Are we done, then?".

She met his eyes but didn't answer, aware that he was playing a game. House smirked and made as if to pull his head up, but the brunette held him against her chest with her hand. "What's wrong?", he asked innocently. Again, she refused to engage, in case any word she uttered might disrupt the fog of anticipation. "Oh, I seemed to have missed a couple of spots. Careless. I'll try again, shall I?". The woman sighed softly, realising that her observation from earlier in the evening was proving accurate. House _was_ playing her like a piano. And she wouldn't have it any other way.

For a third time, House drew his tongue down to her right breast, but now he used the flat of his tongue to lap firmly up to her nipple, which had remained defiantly dry throughout the course of his attentions. Meanwhile his right hand slipped to her stomach and edged upwards. House then used the tip of his tongue to trace around the circumference, still avoiding direct contact. Cameron attempted to shift herself so that his tongue hit her nipple, which stood out like a pencil eraser, but he held her firmly in place with his hands and a growled "no". As punishment, he abandoned the area immediately and began licking along the underside of her breast, before moving once again to the other and repeating the treatment. Cameron glanced down, observing how House's eyes danced with mischief. She suspected that her eyes betrayed a desperation provoked by a looming, yet so far denied, anticipation. _This man has me in his power, and I love it_.

House smiled against her skin. Perhaps it was time to stop the game – he didn't want to torture her too much. He returned for a final time to the only part of her chest which was still dry. Once more he glanced up her body and saw how Cameron had propped up a little to look at him. Her green eyes were hooded and dark, and her mouth was open in shallow breaths. Despite himself, he swallowed. Then, with a grin, he engulfed a breast in his mouth, flicking her rock hard nub with rapid tongue movements. At this, Cameron sank back into the pillow with a groan, forcing his head against her chest with a hand entwined in his hair. While he feasted on one breast, his hand travelled up her belly and groped the other, pulling lightly on a nipple. "Fuck", she whispered.

"Yes, I think it's nearly time", he replied, using his teeth to softly nibble and bite each peak, and his lips to create a vacuum; mixing hard consistent pressure with periods of light tongue brushes. Cameron squirmed beneath him, forcing his mouth harder against her flesh. House took this as his cue and began to apply little bites to her nipples, being careful to let her movements guide him. If her hand in his hair pushed down, he applied more pressure; but if she pulled softly upwards, he at once returned to using the flat and tip of his tongue and the cushion of his lips and gums. They remained like this for some time, Cameron manipulating the other, using him to caress herself the way she liked, allowing herself to reach the delicious threshold between sharp arousal and soft pain, pulling back if it got too much, before going again. After some time on her chest, his free hand edged downwards and began to caress her through her thong. The fabric was already wet, and House growled against her skin. He could wait no longer, and, with a final flick, he headed lower, kissing in a straight line to her navel.

Cameron's breathing, which had been deep and regular as she had focused on enjoying his attention, shallowed out as she glanced down and tracked his progress southwards.

House was so close to where she needed him to be.


	40. Lose control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill by now: yet more graphic times in this entry. **What follows is incredibly detailed, and it's not for everyone**. My thinking here is to try and represent the culmination of House and Cameron's journey towards each other in as visceral a way as possible. It's entirely possible, probable even, that this will turn some readers off. Things will calm down a bit in the next ones and, depending on reaction, I may look to tone things down. But I thought long and hard about the language of this chapter, and I hope it doesn't disappoint too many people. Feedback is always welcome.
> 
> The chapter is really too long but it was so much fun to write that I didn't want to split it up again. It's up to you whether you wanna read all, some, or none of it. 

House playfully poked his tongue in Cameron's belly button before reaching the black lace thong, the one piece of clothing that had remained in place for the entire evening. He looked at the rip he had made earlier and his eyes darted upwards. "I seem to have damaged your underwear. Sorry about that – were they expensive?".

"No", she answered.

The nephrologist raised an eyebrow. "Liar…". He returned his attention to the area in front of his face, feeling the heat emanate from her body, before continuing: "…and liars need to be punished". House at once licked over the fabric in one continuous movement from bottom to top, tracing her shape, revelling in the scent of her arousal. Cameron shuddered involuntarily and released a murmur, gripping his hair. Once again, he trailed his tongue slowly over the flimsy garment, and once again he could feel the woman shiver beneath him. House knew that he could spend all evening in this position. Instead, he sat up a touch and hooked his thumbs under the waistband, the other lifting up a little from the bed to help him in removing them.

House drew the panties down her legs slowly, kissing along her thigh and calf as he pulled. Having removed them, they were quickly tossed aside as he examined the woman before him. Cameron propped up as she watched House watch her. Like earlier, she blushed under his scrutiny; but he seemed not to notice as his tongue moistened dry lips. The nephrologist could see that she was already wet, and it took all his willpower not to eat her out then and there. But he didn't want to reveal all his party tricks too soon. This was only their first encounter and he wanted to keep her on her toes. "You're beautiful", he stated plainly. Cameron's blush deepened, though she said nothing. "Bedside table drawer, by your head", he added gruffly.

The brunette reached across and took a condom from the box. House ripped it free with his teeth while massaging himself to full hardness against the smooth skin of her inner thigh. After a moment, he slipped it on and knelt between her legs, pulling her closer with his arms hooked under her knees. Though his leg was healed, long experience had taught him that this was one of the less strenuous positions. House brushed himself against her entrance for several seconds, enjoying the anticipation. "Are you ready?", he asked, looking into Cameron's green eyes.

"I've been ready for two and a half years", she replied, feeling her heart beating in her ears.

He growled at this, though continued to rub softly against her, allowing the excitement to plateau, focusing his mind on the task ahead whilst also increasing the woman's anticipation. House considered himself an experienced lover but a small part of him was apprehensive. He cared for Cameron deeply, but the fact was that this development in their relationship had been, for him, a fairly quick process. Though he'd harboured feelings for her since day one, he'd never thought he'd act on them. Cameron, though, had made it clear early on that she desired him. For her, tonight was the culmination of a long journey – how many times had she dreamt of being here, with him? Adrenaline flashed through his body. _I need to do this properly. I need to be in control_.

After a few moments, he entered her with just the tip of his cock before withdrawing immediately. Cameron gasped reflexively, and he could feel her thighs attempt to draw him in; he held fast. "Oops", he uttered, looking up mischievously. She was too busy enjoying the feelings building in her core to respond. Once more, House repeated the motion, allowing himself to slip just inside for a moment longer before withdrawing. Cameron released a soft moan, both loving and hating the way he was toying with her desire. "What do you want me to do, Cameron?", he asked, copying her words from earlier in the evening.

The immunologist met his gaze, emulating his own response to the question she had posed. "You know exactly what I want you to do".

"I do. And I want you to tell me anyway".

"I want you to _fuck_ me, House", she hissed.

He raised an eyebrow. "OK, then". With that, he pushed forwards slowly, ensuring that only the top couple of inches entered her, hearing the woman groan at the intrusion.

The diagnostician gripped her more firmly by the legs but held still just inside her, enjoying the sensation for a few moments, allowing her to acclimatise to his feel. Then, he worked into a slow rhythm, intentionally keeping his thrusts shallow and measured. House used this initial period to slow his breathing and give his own body a chance to settle in. Every woman felt different in the most subtle way, and he closed his eyes briefly as he ran his hands up and down Cameron's thighs, delighting in the warmth of her skin and her soft moans of pleasure. She had sat up and was looking into his eyes – chestnut hair hung loosely over her shoulders and the silver necklace caught the light from the bedside lamp. _Beautiful_.

Once he thought himself ready, House began to deepen his strokes, though still keeping up the slow pace, and not yet allowing himself to sink in fully. Cameron responded immediately, hooking her legs loosely against the small of his back, content to let him set the pace. She fell back to the pillow and concentrated on feeling as much of House as she could. So many times she had fantasised about this very thing, had wondered in her dreams how it might happen, if it did – a frenzied fuck in a spare examination room or in the lab, where they had shared some of their most intimate moments; or the conclusion of an evening's slow seduction: a meal, wine and whiskey, leading inevitably to the bedroom. She and House had been dancing around each other for weeks, gradually getting closer, and now, finally, she was in his bed and on her back. The woman shivered with delight as House began to shift his angle to graze her inner wall.

House felt the other's involuntary movement and slipped his right hand down to grasp her ankle, as if preparing to increase his pace. Rather than do so immediately, he interspersed a few more shallow thrusts amongst the deeper ones, loving how the more he drew out, the more she attempted to pull him in with sighs and little twitches. One of Cameron's hands trailed to her nipples, and House watched closely as she pleasured herself, filing the information away for future reference. After one such shallow penetration, House withdrew almost completely and stopped, meeting Cameron's eyes with his own; her pupils were wide with increasing excitement, aware that the first stage was coming to a close.

House raised an eyebrow and kept his focus on her face. The woman's mouth was open a little and he could see her tongue dart out. House took a breath and slowly allowed himself to sink in as deep as possible. If he had glanced down, he would have seen his cock gradually disappear from sight as Cameron swallowed him completely. As it was, he maintained eye contact, watching as her mouth opened wider with each passing second, her legs pulling him in even more. She looked breathtaking, and House felt a surge of pleasure as he sank deep, loving the hot tightness around his cock. "Fuck", Cameron whispered, "you're so…I can feel…you filling me up, House". She had remained propped up on her elbows.

"Are you OK? I don't want to push you". House was aware that he was bigger than most men, which was one of the reasons why he had taken it so slow. He remained inside, not moving, giving her a chance to breathe.

"Push me…", she murmured. " _Fuck_ me…please…". He could see her chest rise and fall in shallow breaths, and her hair had covered an eye. She looked like sex.

House released a rumble, unhooked her legs from around his waist and grasped them. Without another word, he began to work into a consistent rhythm, rocking out and pushing in until their skin met, Cameron groaning softly with each impact. The man watched as she lost herself in the moment – her nipples stood out like peaks, and her hair fanned all around the pillow. Though she had spent much of the time propped up on her elbows watching him, now she lay back fully, eyes closed, mouth open slightly in a perpetual moan of delight, rolling with each thrust. Both hands were on her breasts, groping and pinching herself the way she liked as House deftly switched the angle of attack by leaning more heavily on his good leg.

"I want more, House", she whispered after a few minutes. "Give me more…I can take it; I _want_ it", Cameron spoke over the sounds of their movement.

Though she didn't see, House smiled. After a couple more deep thrusts, he began to hold himself, buried to the hilt, for periods of two or three seconds, before withdrawing completely. With each loss of contact, the brunette whimpered and her legs strained to bring him back inside. Only when he could feel her legs flex against his hands and arms, only when she looked up with desperation in her eyes, did he allow himself to sink forwards once again. This motion enabled him to catch his breath and shift his grip on her body. He released her legs, which immediately laced around the small of his back, and placed his hands on her waist, his thumbs nearly meeting by her navel. Cameron's hand slipped down to rest over his while the other remained on a breast.

House could feel his heart begin to quicken and he spent a minute or two regathering himself, returning to his shallow thrusts, taking deep breaths to slow his pulse, and closing his eyes momentarily. He had no intention of releasing himself fully until she experienced her own climax. As he waited for his excitement to dip, he reflected on the sheer sexuality of the female body – it could have multiple orgasms in a short space of time and possessed an organ whose sole purpose was the magnification of sexual pleasure. Reading his mind, Cameron's hand trailed down to her clit. House stopped her. "Not yet, Cameron".

The woman released a murmur, though she complied. "You're a mean man, House…".

He didn't answer but took her fingers in his mouth before pressing down on her abdomen and completing a deep repetition from a greater height. Cameron gasped at the new sensation but locked her legs even tighter around him. He needed no second invitation, and began to push harder and faster than he had previously, ensuring that each impact caressed her inner walls before ending deep inside her. This position was easier on his leg but only because much of his weight had been transferred to her midriff, and he watched her carefully for signs of pain as he rocked back and forth. But she saw him looking and her green eyes were dark with a building lust. "Don't worry about me. I know you're holding back, but you don't have to. Take me however you want because _I_ can take you".

"Are you sure?", he asked softly.

"Use me. I'm yours, House", she whimpered, bringing his hand up to cup her cheek before biting down on his thumb.

With this act and those words resonating through his mind, the man released a throaty rumble, using his thumb, which was still in her mouth, to force her gaze to his. Cameron could see that his eyes had acquired the midnight blue quality that she so rarely saw. She observed the veins in his neck and the tight line of his mouth. In this moment, he radiated power and she trembled against his cock which had remained buried inside her. Finally, she had achieved her aim. Gone were the layers of rational thought, the irony, the calculated foreplay. House had been stripped of his armour – for now, for one night, he was her _man_. "On your hands and knees", he growled.

The woman swallowed. She had always loved that position for its animal simplicity. So much of her life was rational and reserved, but there was nothing more erotic for her than to give in, if only for a while, to her baser desires. Nevertheless, she wanted to test House. "Maybe I like _this_ position, _Gregory_ ", she whispered, sucking against his thumb innocently, though her desire-filled eyes betrayed her.

The diagnostician moved so quickly it surprised Cameron even in her hyper-sensitive state. Leaving barely enough time to withdraw fully, he reached down and flipped the woman over, forcing her to reach out in order to break her fall. Without a word, he lined himself up and impaled her from behind, using one hand to reach around her stomach and pull her bodily onto his cock. Cameron groaned loudly and used her arms and legs to propel herself backwards with each of his movements. "Is this what you wanted, Cameron?", he grunted from behind her.

"God, yes. Don't stop, House. Please…", she moaned, revelling in his forcefulness, using it to enhance her own pleasure. Her hands gripped the bed sheet and she dipped her head to the pillow.

House continued to drive into the woman from behind, listening to her gasps, ensuring that each entry was as deep as possible. After a time, one of Cameron's elbows sank to the bed and he used this opportunity to change his position slightly: both hands went to her ass and he sank into her from a steeper angle as hard and fast as he could. Cameron's face now rested against the pillow and she began to murmur into her hair, which was plastered to her skin. "You're so deep. I…I can _feel_ you, unhhh. This is all I…wanted".

"I didn't know…I thought…you were innocent", breathed House, falling forwards to wrap his arms around her from behind whilst he continued his rapid penetrations.

Cameron glanced back at him through the curtain of her hair, green eyes wanton. "Do I look innocent to you?", she whispered, rolling back onto his thrusts.

"No…", he replied softly, feeling sweat drip down his face. "I want to see you". With this, House sank deep one final time before withdrawing and moving to the head of the bed, propping a pillow against the board and leaning against it. Cameron realised at once what he intended and whipped her hair out of her eyes before straddling him slowly, but remaining still in his lap. House grasped her by the waist, taking much of her weight in his arms.

Both were now breathing heavily. Cameron touched her forehead to his. "I dreamt that it would be like this", she breathed, before kissing him hard and reaching down to hold him against her entrance. The brunette gradually lowered herself onto his cock, her mouth open. House growled and forced his tongue against hers, running his hand through her hair as they kissed fiercely. Cameron placed her hands on his knees either side and used the leverage to fuck herself with his cock. But the other quickly took over, gripping her roughly by the waist before lifting her up and allowing her to sink back into his lap. As he did this, House began to bite down the woman's neck, leaving little red marks in her pale flesh. "Fuck, you feel so good, Cameron". The woman grinned devilishly, not bothering to brush her hair from her eyes.

The pair remained like this for some time, Cameron riding her boss for all she was worth, observing up close the shocking blue of House's eyes, loving the nuances in his expressions and sighs, delighting in the sound of their colliding bodies. She couldn't believe that Stacey had passed this up for another man; nor that she had settled for a drug-fogged frolic with Chase. Now, she could focus completely on enjoying House. It had been so long since she'd been this turned on by a man; perhaps she'd never been this turned on – she could hear and feel the evidence of her own arousal. _God, he was so hot_. "More, Greg…more…", she gasped, looking straight into his eyes, their noses almost brushing.

House's cock twitched inside her and she noticed. "You don't like it when I call you by your name?", she breathed as she moved over him, meeting his thrusts with her own, talking to him in a whisper. "OK, I won't call you 'Greg'. What about…'darling'?". The man exhaled, aware that the other was trying to entice him. He leant further forwards and concentrated on increasing the pace and strength of his strokes. He could feel the heat of Cameron's body against his own as he pulled her down, both hands wrapped tightly around her. "You…you think 'darling' is too old-fashioned? Harder…unhhh. Answer me". Her fingernails dug into his back as he drove into her, feeling sweat on his face.

House had dipped his head down momentarily to observe the clash of their bodies, but her tone caused him to look up. "I don't like 'darling'. Too domestic", he grunted, noticing how her breasts quivered with each stroke. He fell forwards and kissed her hungrily on the mouth, allowing his lover to push against him for a time, loving the feel of her hard nipples against his chest.

After a couple more minutes he forced her on to her back and knelt between her legs. Cameron grinned and tensed her muscles to draw him in even tighter, causing the man to exhale. "Not 'darling', then", she pulled him down to whisper in his ear. House nibbled down her neck, taking the silver chain in his teeth momentarily, before sitting back up to focus on the angle and depth of his penetrations, bottoming out with each entry, Cameron's groans and muttered words mixing with the sound of his breathing. He switched his grip again as she ran her hands up his arms, squeezing his biceps, feeling them flex beneath her fingers. "Or maybe you _do_ like 'Greg'. Look at me".

Again, House raised his head to meet her gaze. He could make out a film of sweat on her face, tendrils of hair plastered to her skin; and he knew she would be able to detect the same flush on his cheeks, his mouth open as he took increasingly ragged breaths, loving the growing excitement, the brunette's words stirring his blood. "You look so hot when you fuck me, House. _More_ ". He grimaced a little before driving into her mercilessly, the sound of their sex filling his ears.

Cameron's groans echoed through the room and her legs clamped around him. "Yesss. Stay there. Keep going; that's it. You…you're going to do this to me whenever…I want. I don't care where we are". Cameron used a hand to caress her breast while the other rested over his, around her waist. "You feel so good. Don't stop…".

"Cameron…". House looked into her green eyes dark with lust. The sight and sound of her, the knowledge that she was prone, completely open to him, caused a tremor of pleasure to flash through his body as he focused on delivering the consistent pressure she wanted, ignoring the aches in his arms and legs, wishing only to continue the feeling.

"I'll be a good girl for you, House; I will. The others don't have to know the truth", she sighed, drawing her nails down his arms again, tracing the veins which stood out on his biceps while bucking her hips up to meet each of his thrusts.

"What truth?", House murmured, watching as a drop of sweat fell from his forehead onto Cameron's skin, which felt like it was on fire.

"That I am…addicted to you and your cock", she breathed.

"Fuck…", House whispered. Cameron's talk combined with her vice-like warmth was beginning to make its mark, and he could feel his climax build as his heart raced uncontrollably.

The brunette smiled and began to touch herself as House maintained his strokes while watching closely how she used her fingers to manipulate her clit. "I want you to come when I do, House. Tell me…unhhh…when you're close. "I'm nearly…I…". Cameron's words fragmented as she worked herself ferociously to the rhythm of the other's movements.

The sight of the woman writhing beneath him, her pale skin flushed, eyelids hooded, nipples proud, was impossible to resist, and he could feel his body begin to override the command of his brain. "Cameron, I'm…I can't…", he breathed.

She didn't respond, instead locking her eyes to his while she used her fingers to see herself to the brink. As she did so, she began to flex herself in quick intervals around his length. This was the final impetus for House, and he shut his eyes in unadulterated joy as his cock shuddered inside the other, each pulse following quick on the last. Only when Cameron saw the man above her descend into the throes of release did she allow her own climax to crash into being, waves of bliss radiating from her core in sharp contractions, causing her to rise up from the bed, as if the act could somehow extend the feeling indefinitely. Only when the last throb had echoed through her body did she sink, exhausted, to the bed. House followed suit, all but collapsing on to the other as his muscles finally gave way, and he breathed heavily into the pillow.

Cameron stroked his hair, kissing him gently on the cheek. "That was amazing, House, thank you".

House turned his face to the side and grinned. "What have I told you about thanking me?". He was referring to an exchange they'd shared on their go-karting date.

The brunette met his gaze and brushed his cheek with a thumb, feeling the sweat. "What can I say? I believe in giving credit where it's due".

"Mmm. Well…", he replied, stretching his arms out like a cat, "…you weren't bad".

" _What_ did you say?", she retorted, rolling over to lie on top of him, drawing her knee up to rest over his groin threateningly.

"Err, sorry. Adjective confusion. I meant to say: you were great!".

Cameron bit his noise playfully. "There we go. Maybe you need to sort out your English skills, House". He smirked, kissed her, then threw her off him, causing a surprised squeal. The two smiled at each other, their breathing the only sound of life. Only after several moments had passed did Cameron drape her arm over his chest. House pulled her close, feeling her hair against his cheek.

The pair remained like this, basking in the afterglow, completely sated, utterly content.


	41. Breakfast in bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this story - comments and criticisms are always welcome!

House awoke the next morning to the comfortable weight of Cameron beside him. He opened his eyes and observed her for a time. She had curled up to his body, and her hair fanned around the pillow, mouth open slightly as she took regular breaths. She was still asleep. House smiled a little before bringing his forearm up and resting it behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. He couldn't remember the last time he had experienced the simple delight of waking up to a woman. It suited him to keep things casual, relying mainly on hookers to satisfy his urges. Wilson had tried many times to set him up on dates and double dates, but he'd had little interest in talking to these people, let alone spending the night, and eating breakfast, with them. And now here he was waking up to Cameron, his own immunologist. And it felt great. _Scary_.

He had opened up to her last night, in more ways than one. The interesting thing was that she had too; she had perceived that one of the biggest reasons as to why he'd been reluctant to consider a relationship between them had been her relative youth, perhaps even her immaturity. But as he thought back on their amorous activities, he noted with satisfaction that she had been exactly what he had wished her to be: strong, independent and seductive; but also disarmingly vulnerable and kind, willing to accommodate his disability and quirkiness. There had been no awkwardness, no mumbled apologies, no distracted glances. Instead, each had enjoyed the other's body to the full, delighting in little reactions and gestures.

It helped, of course, that the woman was stunningly beautiful. House once again angled his head so that he could watch her sleep. He had known as soon as he'd hired her that he would have to watch himself, would have to work hard to maintain a buffer zone of calculated indifference. But that was before someone had tried to kill him. Times had changed and, right now, he was beyond glad that they had.

"What are you looking at, buster?", murmured Cameron, eyes still closed.

House replied without missing a beat. "Your ugly mug".

The brunette raised an eyebrow, though her lids remained down. "Ugly, am I? Well…". Cameron's arm, which had been draped across his chest, began to slide beneath the duvet. "We'll see what Dr. House has to say about that…". Before long, she found what she wanted. "It seems one of you is lying. It seems one of you thinks I'm _not_ ugly". Her hand began to move up and down in rhythmical motions.

House smirked. "I'm afraid _that_ Dr. House doesn't always listen to the boss".

Cameron's eyes opened and she flashed a grin at him. "That makes two of us". With this, she shimmied under the covers and took him in her mouth without preamble.

The man exhaled. _She really is pretty good at that_. "How'd you fancy breakfast in bed?".

"What do you think I'm doing at the moment?", came the muffled voice.

Even though she couldn't see, he smiled. "Poached eggs on…on, ah, toast?". House forced himself to remain still. No answer was forthcoming. Cameron was occupied.

\--

House wandered back into the bedroom carrying a tray laden with toast, eggs, and coffee. He looked over to see Cameron, completely naked, standing in front of his bookcase browsing the spines. "You have so many history books. Why?", she asked, still facing the shelves.

The diagnostician had been staring, and he cleared his throat, jolted back into action. "What do you mean?".

"You're a doctor, a man of science. But if I didn't already know that, I'd have guessed that you were a classics professor or something". The brunette turned around, hands on hips. House swallowed, allowing his gaze to run down her body. "I want you to explain your bookshelf to me", she remarked.

House shrugged and placed the tray on the bedside table before clambering between the still-warm sheets. "Well", he began, as he buttered the toast and placed an egg on top, "I've always enjoyed history, especially ancient history. Growing up in Egypt it was hard not to – everywhere you look, you are confronted with a civilisation thousands of years old. It was a place where you trod lightly".

Cameron had walked over to join him in the bed. He handed her a serving of eggs and toast and continued speaking as he pushed down the coffee plunger. "But I think I love history because it's the story of how we got here. People are in such a rush today for instant news, instant gratification, instant reward. But the story of history can't be rushed; it has to be learned, digested, understood. It's a long process, and because it's so long, it's all the more satisfying when you finally discover something you didn't know before".

Cameron accepted her coffee and looked at him. "So you're saying it's a quest for knowledge that makes you interested in it?".

"Absolutely it is. But it's also a quest for satisfaction". House took a huge bite of his toast.

The immunologist said nothing, sipping her coffee as she thought. "It seems to me, though, that you can get all this from medicine, or any other academic field for that matter. Why is ancient history so special? What does it give you that, I don't know…", she waved her hand about, "…physics or chemistry doesn't?".

House leant back against the pillow, which he had propped upright. "Science gives me satisfaction, it's true, but it's not the same. I suppose I like the ancient side of things because it reminds me of how far we've come. Take medicine. Without the Greeks and Romans, and after them the physicians of the Islamic golden age, we wouldn't be here. Or at least, not in a way that we'd recognise. Our discipline, the thing to which we devote our lives, has roots in the deepest antiquity. I think we owe it to ourselves, let alone our predecessors, to give our own story due consideration". House finished talking and sipped his drink.

"So, it comes back to what you said before – the need to understand the story". Cameron also sat back, though she placed a hand on his arm and traced lazy circles as she thought. "And what does medicine give you?".

"You know the answer to that question. You deduced it on our first date".

Cameron smiled faintly. "The puzzle".

"The puzzle", House agreed.

The two lapsed into silence for a few minutes, content to enjoy their breakfast. Cameron hadn't bothered pulling the sheets around herself as she ate, and her bare upper body filled the man's peripheral vision. At length, she finished off her eggs and placed the empty plate on the little table before fixing him with her green eyes. "Your curiosity, House, it's remarkable. You asked me why I liked you, the night we went to that German restaurant. I put you off then. The fact is that it's hard to boil down to one or two things. I mean, sure, you're tall, dark, strong; your eyes bewitch, and your face is beautifully rugged. But it's just your mind that blows me away. It never stops asking questions, seeking answers; your intellect is always burning. It's intimidating and…", Cameron paused and took a breath, "… _incredibly_ sexy".

House pulled the woman into his lap. "Stop. You're making me blush". He nuzzled her nose with his.

"I don't care. You said last night that you wanted us to be honest. I'm being as honest as I can be".

"I know", he sighed before continuing: "I'll be honest, too. I'm not perfect, Cameron. In fact, I'm as imperfect as a man could be. At the moment, all these things you like about me are a turn on; they're new. But at some point in the future, you'll find my curiosity annoying, my constant quest for satisfaction tiresome, my weirdness burdensome. I'm not worried about what happens _now_ ; I'm worried what happens _then_. Because I guarantee that someone somewhere sometime is gonna make you a better offer. And what's more, I wouldn't blame you one bit if you took it". House had pulled back slightly as he spoke, ensuring that she understood his seriousness.

But Cameron placed her hands behind his head and pulled him closer. "I don't doubt it. Someone will make me a better offer: I'm young, beautiful, intelligent. It's almost inevitable. But here's what you still fail to understand, House. I'm not in this for 'better'; I'm not in this for 'new' or 'fresh'. I'm in this for _you_ and everything which that entails. I've watched you for two and a half years, studying you, learning from and about you". Cameron paused, and leant forwards to whisper in his ear. "And now that we're close, I hate that I didn't tell you all of this sooner, because as far as I'm concerned all we've done is waste two years". With this she sat back and smiled, while her hand drifted down to his lap.

"In fairness, I probably share some of the blame". House smiled back and rested his hands on her waist, allowing himself to harden against her skin.

"Yes, you do". Cameron reached over and ripped a condom from the packet by the lamp, before handing it to him. When he was ready, she manoeuvred herself into position. "You're cantankerous, impossible to talk to…", she whispered into his mouth, "…overly sarcastic…".

House gripped her strongly. "Don't forget deliberately provocative".

Cameron reached down and rubbed him against her entrance. "Yes, you're _frustratingly_ provocative…", she sighed against his stubbled cheek.

House kissed along her neck and jaw as the woman tilted back to give him access. "I'm also a bit cheeky", he growled as he moved his hands down to her butt.

"Yes, you are", Cameron agreed with a whimper, though looking directly into his eyes. "And sometimes you think too much; you don't let yourself go".

"I am who I am", House rumbled, before kissing her hard.

"I know you are", replied the brunette, running both hands through his hair. "You're also mine, and for the next little while I want you to switch off your brain and fuck me like you mean it. Can you do that for me?".

"Yes", he replied. With that, she sank down fully, and the pair lost themselves in mutual passion as the early morning sunshine filtered through the window.

Saturday was looking bright, but House and Cameron wouldn't be going outside.


	42. Walk and talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a clip on the House YouTube channel entitled 'Walk and Talk'. I've borrowed the idea.

Cameron got in early Monday morning to go over the final draft of her paper before starting work. She'd originally intended to finish it over the weekend but, for obvious reasons, it hadn't been particularly productive. She and House had hung out until after lunch on Saturday, at which point she had made her excuses. Though she would have happily spent all weekend with him, it was safer at this early stage to afford him his space. Plus, it had the added bonus of keeping him hungry, keeping him wanting more. Still, though they had parted company a day and a half ago, she just couldn't get the man out of her head.

The fact was that she was bursting with happiness but had no one to tell. Chase and Foreman still didn't know, and she obviously wouldn't have confided in the former even if he _was_ aware. Cameron reached the elevator and pressed the button, lost in thought. Being a doctor was enormously rewarding, but it did very little for her personal life. Having come to PPTH straight from the Mayo clinic in Minnesota, and being from Chicago originally, most of her friends from high- and medical- school were far from New Jersey. This meant that she'd been free to throw herself into work, of course, but when it came to sharing good news it meant that there were few people on hand.

Her dad had left a message on Friday night asking for a life update – maybe she'd call him back this morning and invite her parents over for a weekend sometime. If that went well, perhaps she could think about revealing her relationship to them. Her pulse quickened at that as she stepped into the elevator, arguing internally with herself. _Steady, Allison. Don't get ahead of yourself_. One night (and one morning) of fantastic sex did not a relationship make. But they _were_ in a relationship – they'd established this on the second date. No. She couldn't think of telling them about House just yet; it was too soon. _God, what has this man done to you? He's not even here and you're giddy like a high schooler. Get a grip, woman_.

Cameron pressed the button for Diagnostics and walked to the back of the elevator. A couple of doctors whom she vaguely recognised ambled in, one of them making no secret of the fact that he was checking her out. The immunologist glared at him and he looked away hurriedly. Before the door slid shut, she heard a snatched "hold it, please!", and the tapping of a pair of heels. The ogling doctor put out his arm and Cuddy jogged in. "Thanks, Peter", she offered before adding in an innocent tone, as if somehow aware of his wandering eye, "how're Diane and the kids?".

"Uh, fine, thanks, Dr. Cuddy. Alan started at a new school last week".

"Ah, excellent. Give my best to your family", she replied lightly. The doors slid shut.

"Will do, thanks". Peter went back to talking in hushed tones to his colleague while the Dean stood next to Cameron, whom she regarded curiously. "You're in early. I didn't think you started until half past 8".

Cameron shrugged, though she replied with amusement in her voice. "Medicine isn't a job; it's a _calling_ ".

The other snorted. "Then why is it that I'm paying you diagnosticians as much as I'm paying my heads of department, eh?". Peter glanced back at this and Cuddy noticed. "Sorry, Pete".

"Because we rock?", grinned the brunette.

The administrator nodded sagely. "No denying that". The elevator reached radiology and the two men disembarked, leaving the pair alone.

"Where are you headed?", asked Cameron.

"Same place you are. Well, same floor. I've got a meeting with Stevens in neurology".

"This early?".

Cuddy raised an eyebrow as she replied: "Administration isn't a job; it's a _calling_ ". The immunologist held her hands up and grinned again. "You're in a disgustingly good mood for a Monday morning, Dr. Cameron. I don't like it". The elevator reached their destination with a ding and the two walked out. Suddenly the Dean stopped and exclaimed. "Ohh….I completely forgot! Your date with House was on Friday, wasn't it?".

"How did you know about that?", Cameron asked.

"Please. I know everything. Plus, I made House tell me at lunch last week".

"Well, yep, it was Friday". She was bursting to expand on the theme but she was still uncertain whether Cuddy would welcome discussing an ex-boyfriend, so she remained silent.

"Spill. I can sense you're dying to tell someone". They had stopped walking.

"You sure? I didn't know if it was appropriate". Cameron couldn't wipe the smile off her face.

"I told you before. House and I are ancient history". Cuddy stroked her chin thoughtfully. "Actually, I've got a better idea. How'd you fancy meeting up for a drink later, just us girls? Then you can tell me all about it".

Cameron nodded slowly. "That could be fun. Shall I drop by your office when we wrap up for the day and we can find a place?".

"Sounds good. See you later, then". Cuddy moved off, leaving Cameron to smile faintly before heading into a deserted Diagnostics department.

* * *

Nearly an hour later Chase and Foreman walked through the hospital doors clutching takeout coffees. "So you think that's it between you and Mathilde, then?", asked the latter as they crossed towards the bank of elevators.

Chase took a sip before he replied. "Yeah. We had a big blowout over the weekend. It was fun while it lasted but I'm just not that into her. To be honest, I think Wilson is much more her type. Maybe I can try set them up or something? Y'know, after some time has passed".

Foreman scoffed. "Sure. How would that go, exactly? 'Sorry, babe, I have the hots for another woman, but don't worry: I've found you a replacement'".

The Australian tilted his head. "You're probably right. Anyway, it's not because of Cameron".

The neurologist raised an eyebrow. "How'd you figure that?".

"Look, I told you. If House and Cameron are together – and we still don't know if they are – I'm fine with it".

The two doctors stepped into the empty elevator and pressed the button. "So you're telling me that if House and Cameron broke up tomorrow, and she fell into your arms, you'd refuse her?".

Now it was Chase's turn to scoff. "I said I was fine with it; I didn't say I was gay. You think they're together then?".

Foreman shrugged. "I wouldn't be surprised. They've been pretty close recently, and both of them seem happier". He didn't reveal that he'd suspected their covert hand-holding at the German restaurant. For one thing, he didn't want to dampen Chase's seemingly phlegmatic approach to the whole thing; for another, he couldn't be _certain_ of what he saw – the place was incredibly dark, after all.

The elevator opened on their floor and they walked out. "See, that's just it. If they _were_ together, I'd wager Cameron at least would be a bit glummer. Can you imagine having to deal with House at home as well as work?", Chase wondered. The truth was that he was still prepared to play it cool. Wilson had suggested that he take time to consider his feelings and that's what he'd done. The feelings for the immunologist were real, but he remained convinced that the relationship between her and their boss, if there was one, would soon fizzle out. House was simply too impossible and Cameron too genuine for it to work for any length of time. He gave it a month. After that, with the fantasy punctured, Chase would stand a chance of being the man she deserved, and things could go back to the way things were.

Foreman shrugged at this and the pair walked to the office in silence. For his part, he thought Chase in dreamland if he believed things would magically work out between himself and Cameron. Even if she and House broke up, the woman had been pretty clear at Café Spoleto regarding her own feelings for the intensivist. Love couldn't be forced. Love was also blind, however, and right now his friend was blind. Foreman shuddered to think what would happen if a situation arose in which House and Cameron broke up, Chase attempted to make a move too soon, and everyone in the office hated each other. This was why he personally avoided getting involved with anyone at the hospital. It just wasn't worth the aggravation.

The two doctors entered Diagnostics to the sight of Cameron working at her laptop. She looked up and smiled. "Morning, men. What's with the co-ordinated entrance? You two spend the night with each other?".

Chase laughed. "Hey, Foreman would be so lucky".

The brunette smirked. "Yeah, yeah". Chase's words had caused her mind to flit back to House and her smirk turned into a smile.

The neurologist moved over to the sink and poured himself a glass of water. "How's the article coming?".

She nodded. "Yeah, pretty good, thanks. Just working on the final draft before sending it off, hopefully to _American Journal of Medicine_ ".

"Great. Have you had House's input this time?", he asked.

"Yep. I'm very happy with it". Cameron sat back and stretched her arms out.

"Cool. Can we read it, then?", asked Chase from his chair.

"Sure. I'll send you a copy when I'm done".

"So…", sighed Foreman, sinking into his own chair and picking up a journal himself, "…are we taking bets on when House gets in?".

* * *

An hour and a half to two hours later, House wandered across the lobby, backpack slung over one shoulder. Rather than head directly to the elevators, he veered off towards the pharmacy. It had become something of a ritual for him to observe discreetly the rows of assorted medication at the start of each week, to remind himself how much had changed, and how far he had come. If pressed, he would admit that he was indulging in a bit of psychological mindplay. But things had been going so well recently that he felt it necessary to remember when times were bad, as if the act of remembrance would somehow avert the disaster which he knew would come sooner or later. House had been deadly serious when he'd told Cameron that women and he had a fraught history – somehow, he'd find a way to screw things up. The idea of 'happily ever after' sounded alien.

Still, until he reached the point of inevitable heartbreak, there was no reason why he couldn't enjoy the present. With a gentle exhalation he tapped the counter before turning round. "What are you doing?", asked Wilson loudly.

"Didn't your mommy warn you about sneaking up on girls from behind?", retorted House.

"I'm not convinced anyone's mommy warns them about that, to be honest".

"Really? It sounds like the kind of thing one should be warned about", shrugged House as he brushed past his friend.

"Also, I didn't know you were a girl", stated the other as he caught up.

"Since Saturday. I'm told the Adam's Apple and stubble will disappear gradually, but it remains to be seen".

"That's a lot of sarcasm for a Monday morning. You must be in a good mood". Wilson pressed the button for the elevator.

"You don't know that – I could just be using sarcasm to avoid your question regarding what I was doing at the pharmacy". House glanced sidelong at the oncologist.

"Nah, I think I'd see through such an obvious diversionary tactic. You may be a genius, but I'm pretty smart myself".

"Really? What's the capital of Azerbaijan?".

"Baku".

"Sorry, I meant Mongolia".

"Ulan Bator".

"Australia?".

"Hmmm". Wilson thought about it as they walked into the elevator. "Syd-, no…Canberra!".

House grinned. "You're good. With my help, you could be the best". The pair stood in silence for a few moments as the door slid shut. "What are you doing in the lobby mid-morning, anyway? Don't you have cancers to diagnose, maybe some hot soon-to-be-widows to comfort?".

"Hey", replied Wilson, "I resent the implication that I only comfort attractive women".

The diagnostician smirked. "Oh, it wasn't an implication; it was, an, er…explication? Is that right? It doesn't sound right…".

"I take it back. You aren't a genius", scoffed Wilson.

"Seriously, what's the opposite of 'implication'?". House stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"I don't think it has an opposite". The two doctors exited and wandered down the corridor, in no particular rush.

"That's deep, man. What were you doing down there, anyway?".

"I had to see Cuddy about something; I was leaving her office then I saw you looking all weird and pensive and I just _had_ to find out what it was". They'd reached the glass doors of House's department. "Are you gonna tell me?", Wilson asked.

His friend's eyes flashed, and he put his hand on the door. "Nope".

"Oh, come on. I had a boring weekend and I could use the entertainment. Besides, I wanna hear how it went with Cameron". Wilson folded his arms.

House narrowed his gaze. "I told Cuddy not to ask again for another two weeks".

"Do I look like Cuddy to you? I know my hair is a lovely brown colour, but I'm not sure it's a close likeness".

The tall doctor tilted his head a little. "Regardless, a gentleman does not kiss and tell".

"A gentleman doesn't", agreed Wilson, "but _you_ do".

"I could be a gentleman", House observed, in a dignified tone.

"Is that how it went down on Friday? You were a _gentleman_ and she was a _lady_?". The oncologist adopted a fairly loose representation of an English accent.

"God, you're terrible at accents". House was halfway through the door before he turned back. "If I tell, will it get you off my back for more than five minutes? Your neediness is a massive turn off".

Wilson grinned. "Well, I can't make any promises, but it would definitely keep me at bay for a bit".

House shrugged. "Fine. What're we thinking?".

"Flannery's at 7?".

"Fine", House repeated. "Now get lost before Cameron sees you. I don't want her getting the wrong idea about us".

Wilson saluted and sauntered off to his own office. House rolled his eyes before heading to his desk and switching on the computer; preparing, at 11.45 on the dot, to start his day.


	43. Playing ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to readers and reviewers. I read it all. Your feedback makes me all warm inside, but if you do have criticism let me know.

While his computer booted, House hung his leather jacket on the stand and deposited his rucksack under the desk, before sinking into the chair. He picked up the cricket ball resting by the monitor and started spinning it from hand to hand as he thought.

Wilson asking about Cameron wasn't necessarily an issue, but a part of him was unsure how he felt about divulging the information which he knew his friend wanted. Wilson would never dream of inquiring after the finer points of their date, of course, but even simply _talking_ about himself and Cameron was, in a way, something of a development. Up to now, the discussions between he and the oncologist regarding the brunette had been somewhat abstract. But now that things had progressed physically, it felt significant that Wilson wanted to be kept in the loop. _Again_ , he thought, _not necessarily an issue: simply an observation_.

The fact was that he was happy; probably as happy as he'd been since…he didn't even know when – the day after he'd kissed Stacey in Baltimore? Straightaway, though, it meant that he was on his guard. Happiness was an emotion he distrusted, not least because it encouraged wishful thinking. He could still recall the giddiness he had felt after sleeping with Stacey, could remember not caring one bit that he was willingly allowing her to ruin her marriage to Mark. _And that situation hadn't turned out well_. But Cameron wasn't Stacey, and the realisation that she made him happy caused a smile to form. Regardless, he needed to be careful. Above all else, he was a doctor, and their budding relationship couldn't jeopardise his work. Or her work, for that matter.

House flicked halfheartedly through his email before sitting back and yawning, arms stretched wide. Chase found him like this. "Hey…big weekend?", he asked, noticing his boss' lethargy.

The diagnostician scratched his face. "I'm bored".

"Me too. Which is why I came in to ask whether it's OK if I log a few clinic hours this afternoon".

House shrugged. "Only if you do a couple of mine as well. Cuddy tends to get on my case early in the week; maybe I can head her off at the pass for once".

Chase sighed but nodded nonetheless. "Have you checked your email? We've been invited to give a panel at a conference in London next month".

"Next month? What kind of notice period is that?".

The Australian inclined his head. "Yeah, it's not ideal, but I think it could be interesting. The others agree". House snorted at this. The idea of sitting through several days of talks by crusty doctors half as smart as he was hardly screamed excitement, and he said as much to Chase. "Well, sure", the intensivist continued, "but from what I can tell it's a pretty relaxed schedule. And I haven't been to the UK for ages. Just think about it, at least? I know you aren't much of a conference goer-", again House scoffed: he hadn't attended a conference for about half a decade, "-but if you really don't fancy it, we three can carry the flag for PPTH without you".

If pressed, Chase would admit that the prospect of getting away to London for a few days sounded amazing, both professionally and personally. There would likely be a major crowd in attendance, and, according to the flier, medical practitioners from all over the world were making the trip. At the same time, though, he couldn't deny that the prospect of sharing the days with Cameron away from the office was appealing. Within the walls of Diagnostics, House was king, and rightly so. But England was a different matter entirely. If he was right, and the two had broken up by then, the conference presented an opportunity to throw his hat into the ring.

"Fine, I'll think about it. But you can do an extra clinic hour for me as payment", House replied, watching as Chase left his office. London could be interesting. Obviously, the conference itself sounded interminably dull, but the city held a great deal of appeal. He'd only visited once before and there were many things he wanted to see there, not least the British Museum. Add to that the possibility of bunking off PPTH work for a few days…the idea was becoming increasingly attractive. Maybe he could even take a tour of Lord's, the home of cricket. It would be the off-season, of course, but still worthwhile. House span the ball high into the air, catching it one-handed.

Cameron poked her head through his door from the conference room. "Afternoon", she smiled, "I'm making coffee if you want one".

"Hey", he smiled back. This was their first interaction since the weekend and both played it cool, aware that Foreman was in the other room working on his case notes. "I do, but I'd like to talk to you first".

The brunette entered and closed the door but remained standing just inside the threshold as House threw her the cricket ball, which she caught and tossed from hand to hand. "Sup?".

But instead of answering directly, House tilted his head a little. "That's some good technique. You've played ball before?".

Cameron laughed and tossed it back. "All I did was catch it".

"Yeah, well, most females catch…like girls", he smirked, throwing it again.

"I told you already", said Cameron as she caught. "I don't mind sports in moderation. I just don't like sports metaphors".

"Right. Well, what do you think of this London conference proposition? Chase is all for it". The ball continued its back and forth.

"Are you asking me as a doctor or…as your girlfriend?". Cameron winked at him.

House's eyes flashed. "Would the answers differ?". He threw the ball back a bit harder.

But she was ready and caught it easily. "Probably not".

"So you think it's a good idea?".

"I do. The prospect of attending a top-level conference, maybe where I can present the paper I want to publish, is too good to pass up…", she threw the ball back, "…then if you add in the fact that we could spend some time together away from here. It all sounds pretty romantic, don't you think?".

"I wouldn't know", replied House. "I'm not very well attuned to romance".

Cameron raised an eyebrow. "I reckon you're better _attuned_ to it than you give yourself credit for".

House shrugged. Instead of tossing the ball back, he juggled it as he thought while the other leant against the glass partition. "Well", he said finally, "it wouldn't all be fun and games. Obviously, I'd have to sit on our panel, but other than that there's a couple of things I'd want to do around the city".

Cameron nodded. "Like what?". He told her. "I'd be more than happy to do that stuff with you. If you wanted company, that is". The immunologist was still being careful not to presume too much; careful not to insert herself too frequently into his plans.

House looked at her. "You'd want to traipse around the British Museum and Lord's cricket ground with me?".

The woman smiled. "I'd like nothing more".

"Why?", he asked, genuinely curious.

She fixed him with her green eyes. "House, we're together now. I'm not saying that I'll magically like everything you like, but I'll still enjoy sharing in the things _you_ enjoy. And maybe, at some point, you could repay the favour".

The nephrologist grinned. "That sounds reasonable. But if you have boring hobbies…". He left it hanging.

"Cross-stitching is _not_ boring, OK?!". She glared at him across the room, arms folded.

"Come on, you do _not_ like cross-stitching", he remonstrated. She looked so adorable that it took an effort not to make his way over and give her a big hug. But Foreman could still see them, so he remained in the chair.

Cameron's stern expression melted as quickly as it arrived. "OK, I don't cross-stitch; but I _could_ ". The thought of watching as House tried manfully to summon up enthusiasm for a joint cross-stitching session caused a smile to break across her face.

"Well, how about we have our next date at yours? Maybe give me an insight into what you _do_ like." House tossed her the ball again.

"Sounds good. Though we never got around to watching _Airplane!_ on Friday. I'd still like to give that a crack". Cameron started catching one-handed.

"That's true. I'd suggest tonight but I'm down to see Wilson at the bar. I think he's hankering after a few details of our date.

The brunette blushed. "I hope you don't plan on revealing _everything_ we did…".

The other held a hand up. "Don't worry – your sex secrets are safe with me, _Allison_ ".

Her blush deepened. House had never called her by her first name before. It was a major turn on. Still, she rallied quickly. "Easy there, tiger. If you tell Wilson, then maybe I'll reveal all to Cuddy as well".

House's eyes narrowed as he threw. "Since when are you and Cuddy friends?".

"Since this morning. We're going out later. I thought it might be kinda fun".

"You've changed your tune. Only two days ago you were jealous of her. And now you're best buds".

Cameron nodded slowly. "It's true, I was jealous. But you did a pretty good job putting me at ease, Dr. House". She dropped her voice to a husky murmur.

House swallowed, nearly fumbling the ball for the first time since they had begun their chat. But, like her only a minute earlier, he regathered himself in a moment. "Well, I don't believe it. So: pics or GTFO. Isn't that what the kids say nowadays?".

The woman laughed, echoing his line from earlier. "I wouldn't know. But don't worry – your sex secrets are safe with me… _Gregory_ ".

House smirked, just in time to see Foreman approach through the glass. "What are you two mumbling about?", he asked as he entered.

"Your radiant glow. Cameron here thinks you moisturise. I'm not convinced". House tossed his neurologist the ball while she stifled a snort.

"Riiight. Have you made a decision about London?", inquired Foreman, catching it a little clumsily.

"Not yet. But I'm definitely warming to the idea".

"Good, because I thought we could have a preliminary discussion about what we plan on presenting. I think-". But House raised a finger, got up from his chair and moved to the door. "What're you doing?", asked the younger man.

"Heading to lunch. All that talk about your facial care regimen has got me famished. Not sure why". The diagnostician crossed the threshold and winked at his employees. "In a bit, my dude…and dudette". With that, House squeaked off down the corridor, allowing the door to clang shut behind him.


	44. Comparing notes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, the stuff on House and Cuddy's history is strictly canon. I try and avoid making up things whenever possible because I personally find it more fun to work within the template of the series rather than striking off on my own as regards characters and relationships. While I will accept that I'm probably stretching House's love of cricket to unbelievable lengths, it _is_ in the show, honest!

Cameron knocked on Cuddy's door and entered. The Dean was talking on the phone, but she smiled and gestured towards the easy chair by the file cabinet, which Cameron sank into, taking the opportunity to close her eyes for a moment. The day had been a relatively easy one, but House had received a number of requests, and it looked like the rest of the week was going to be full on. Diagnostics was a strange business. She knew of no other hospital which had a department devoted to it and yet, now that she had spent a couple of years working in its name, she had come to appreciate how vital the field was. How many people had they saved in that time? Hundreds, probably. If these patients hadn't come to PPTH for treatment, they would almost certainly have died. A sobering thought.

The immunologist supposed that Cuddy shared a good deal of the credit. Not only did she think of creating the department in the first place, but she tolerated House's idiosyncrasy and unorthodox methods where many bosses would have lost patience long ago. Both she and House were, it seemed, unique. The administrator finished her call and apologised to Cameron, whose eyes were still closed. "If you want, we can just fall asleep in here for the evening. I wouldn't be against that one bit".

Cameron made an amused noise. "Tough day?".

The other woman shrugged as she switched off her machine and walked over to the coat stand. "Not especially. You know how it is – sleep is at a premium most of the time".

"True". Cameron rose from the chair and watched as Cuddy locked her door. They walked out to the parking lot. "Where'd you wanna go?".

"Apple Tree?". The place was just around the corner from the hospital and generally had a relaxed feel and a mixed clientele. The pair walked the short distance in companionable silence. Autumn was building and the wind was strong, whipping the hair of both women around their faces. The branches of the trees which lined the shaded boulevards of this part of Princeton creaked as they swayed back and forth, and orange leaves fell steadily to the sidewalk. Despite her heavy coat, Cameron shivered. Though she was used to chilly Chicago winters, it always felt like the air was harsher on the coast.

The two went to the bar, gathered their drinks and found a booth by the window. Since it was Monday evening, the place was pretty quiet. Only a few of the tables were occupied, and the drinkers were dispersed throughout the room. "Hey, can I ask you something, Dr. Cuddy?".

"No need for the 'Dr'. outside the hospital, but fire away". The administrator took a sip of her wine. Both had gone for the house white.

"Something you said this morning about how much you pay us relative to the rest of the staff. Is that true? Like, is Diagnostics really that expensive?". Cameron leant forwards, curious for the answer.

"Yeah. I mean, I can't divulge exact figures for obvious reasons, but you three command high salaries compared to the doctors of a similar level in other departments. Then there's House. He earns more than the vast majority already, but if you add in the fact that he always seems to get first use of the equipment, the rush tests that you guys order, _and_ the reality that I have a portion of the budget devoted to paying his legal fees...".

Cameron spluttered into her glass. "Wow, really?!".

"Yep. That man is a real pain in the ass".

"So why do you put up with it? No one else has Diagnostics departments".

Cuddy's eyes twinkled. "Do I really need to answer that? You work on the front lines; you see first-hand how valuable your work is. Sure, you don't have the caseload of most others, but you have a disproportionate impact on the visibility of PPTH, and that's priceless. In fact…", Cuddy took a sip before continuing, "…one of the new sponsors we're looking at is interested precisely _because_ of House".

"Huh. No kidding". The brunette sat back in her chair, smiling faintly.

"Mmm. Funny, isn't it? Vogler leaves due to House; now we may have someone else for the same reason. But here's a question for you: what's it actually like to work under him?".

Cameron laced her hands on the table. It was something she had often thought about, even before she developed feelings for her boss. "It's…interesting. As you said, the work is challenging, for sure, and immensely rewarding. But, it's the man himself I'm drawn to. It's hard to put into words…". She paused, rotating the wine glass between her fingers but not bringing it up. "House is infuriating, annoying, dramatic. He's often dismissive, usually rude, always right. But none of that matters because he's so _provocative_. House makes you think, insists that you question everything. It's exhilarating. He makes coming into work exciting, and that's all you can ask for, really".

Cuddy had been watching the younger woman closely while she was speaking, noting how her face lit up as she discussed her boss. Whether or not Wilson had been correct regarding their compatibility, it was clear that Cameron herself was confident in the reasons for why she liked House. In fact, as Cuddy sat there listening, 'liked' was probably too weak a verb. "I agree with you that he is provocative. Most people would think that quality annoying. But you, it seems, do not", observed the Dean over the rim of her glass.

Cameron tilted her head. "No. And neither do you".

"No, I don't", she conceded. "Like I say, he can be a pain, and there are times he gets on my nerves. But in general, I regard House as a breath of fresh air". Cuddy took a drink before continuing: "I'm probably in the minority there. As far as the leadership group goes, that is".

"The board don't like him?".

"No, and I can't say I blame them. But the man is unique, and he'll always have an ally in me. Unless he does something _really_ unforgivable like…like…", Cuddy waved a hand in the air, "…driving a car through my living room or something".

Cameron grinned. "That would be beyond the pale, even for him". The brunette looked into her wine and then back up, opening her mouth to speak then closing it.

Cuddy noticed. "You can ask".

"You and House…were together then?". She disliked broaching the subject, but it was something that she had long wanted to know, and now was as good a time as any to seek an answer.

"Only very briefly. I met him at the University of Michigan". The administrator looked over her companion's shoulder, her eyes unfocused as she recalled the memory. "House was a few years ahead of me, of course, but even then he was making a name for himself. We met in the bookshop and things progressed from there".

The other nodded. "So you broke up?".

"We weren't in a relationship. We slept together. I wanted more, he didn't. And that's that".

Again, Cameron nodded. Having just experienced House's attentions herself, it didn't surprise her one bit that Cuddy would have wished to prolong the intimacy. On the one hand, it was reassuring to learn that the two were never serious; on the other, however, she couldn't deny harbouring a fear that House would leave her just as he'd left Cuddy.

The older woman sensed the wheels turning. "What are you thinking?". Cameron told her. "Well", replied Cuddy, "you never can tell with House. I think he has commitment issues. But then again, he does seem to really like you".

"I really like him, too".

"Then I suggest you take it as it comes and enjoy it for as long as you can because you never know what he's gonna do. Want another drink?".

"I'll go. Same again?". Cameron made her way to the bar. As she waited for her order, she thought through their conversation. Cuddy knew a great deal about House but in truth none of what she'd said had been unexpected. Cameron knew already that House was unpredictable, just as she knew already that there was a chance he'd up and leave if things got too hard. The best policy would be to try and maintain at least a semblance of distance, in case things ended prematurely. But as soon as this flitted through her mind, she acknowledged its futility. The fact was she was falling for him. She was falling hard. But a confession to the man himself was impossible. It was far too soon. Cameron sighed softly. _Just enjoy it, Allison. Stop fretting_.

"You OK there, babe?", asked a suited man sitting on a barstool to her left, grinning lecherously. Although it wasn't yet late, he already looked a little worse for wear.

Cameron glanced across, annoyed that she had been disturbed, meeting his watery eyes. "I'm fine, thanks, man from bar I've no interest in". He mumbled an apology into his drink as Cameron moved back to her table, sliding a glass to Cuddy.

"So", said Cuddy, "I've answered your questions. Now I have one of my own".

Cameron inclined her head as she took a sip of wine. "Fire away".

"I want _all_ the details of your date. OK, that sounded sinister, and it wasn't actually a question. I'll try again: I want as many details as you're willing to give me". Cameron grinned at this, and the doubts which had arisen at the bar dissolved as quickly as they had appeared. The Dean raised an eyebrow. "Wow, that good, huh?".

"It went better than I could have imagined, to be honest".

"Yeah? Spill". Cameron spent the next thirty minutes explaining how House had cooked a delicious three-course meal; how they had spent much of the evening in relaxed conversation getting to know each other; and how they had retired to the bedroom. This is when Cuddy held up her hand. "There's no need to divulge any more, except…how was it?".

"It was pretty great. I don't know…". Cameron took another sip and looked directly into her companion's eyes. "I guess I was expecting House to be selfish, y'know? Turns out, he ain't".

Cuddy nodded. "Yeah, it's a funny one. He's pretty self-absorbed a lot of the time, but in the bedroom he…", she paused, trying to find the right word.

"He rocks", supplied Cameron with a chuckle.

"He does", laughed the Dean. The two lapsed into silence for a few moments. "I suppose it's not a massive surprise if you actually think about it. He's incredibly observant, possesses an encyclopaedic knowledge of the human body, _and_ has a big enough ego to see it through".

"That's true. He would _love_ to know we're talking about him like this".

"Mmm. Well, I'll never tell if you won't".

"Deal". Both women clinked their glasses together and took a glug. "That reminds me, I have to take a picture of us together. House didn't believe that we were going out". Cameron got up and slid into the bench next to Cuddy. Both doctors made a face as the immunologist clicked the camera, before sending the image off to her boss whom she knew would be drinking with Wilson. "This has been fun. Thanks for suggesting we hang out".

Cuddy smiled. "It has been fun. Truth be told, I don't have many friends apart from House and Wilson".

"Same". Cameron returned to her side of the table.

"Well…want another? I think it's my round".

"Sure thing. I've made it a habit never to refuse a drink unless absolutely necessary".

The administrator snorted. "A smart policy".

"Watch out for that guy on the stool. He'll look down your top the first chance he gets".

The other saluted. "Noted!".

Cameron watched as she moved off to the bar and relaxed into the bench. The phone vibrated on the table and she picked it up. House had replied to her picture message. _OK, you win. Congratulations. It won't happen again_.

Cameron smiled as she typed back. _We'll see about that_.

She didn't have to wait long. _You're pretty confident for a little girl_.

This had her shaking her head. _Whatever you say, old man_.

_We need to work on your comebacks…speaking of, Wilson has returned from the bathroom. In a bit, Camster_.

Cameron's heart fluttered a little. _Cya, have fun_. As she replaced her phone, it struck her that this was the first time she had shared messages with House that had absolutely nothing to do with medicine. This brought another smile to her face. Slowly, day by day, she and House were breaking new ground. They had come a long way, but there was still a lot further to go.


	45. Grumpy

Cuddy was in her office the following morning nursing a screaming hangover. What was originally meant to be a glass of wine and a friendly chat with Cameron had turned into many glasses of wine, two measures of whiskey, a shot of Sambuca and one more of tequila, followed by a large bag of fries picked up on the way home. Since she had left her car at the hospital overnight, it had been necessary to take a cab to work. This was what she got for trying to keep up with the younger woman. To make matters worse, it was a Tuesday, and it simply wasn't possible to cocoon herself away while the effects abated – there were meetings with their prospective sponsor scheduled, on top of the usual beginning-of-the-week administrative tasks that had spilt over from the previous day. She shuddered and took a swig of water, followed by a gulp of coffee.

Suddenly the door to her office swung open and Cuddy jumped in surprise. "Good morning, Cuddles!", exclaimed House loudly. The diagnostician scanned the darkened room and raised an eyebrow in the direction of the woman flinching at the desk. "It looks like a mosh pit in here. I approve".

The Dean was too uncomfortable to be angry at her employee's deliberate antagonism. "What do you want, House? As you can see, I'm…very…busy". The words emerged at little over a whisper.

"Sorry?! I didn't catch that". House had moved to the desk and looked down at his boss with an amused air.

The woman gritted her teeth. "I _said_ -".

"Relax, I know what you said". He sat on the corner before continuing. "I'm not going to lie; you look in pretty poor shape. Would you like me to get you some painkillers? If you ask nicely, I can source you the good stuff from my supplier".

"No, thank you, I'm already dosed up to the eyeballs as it is". Cuddy squinted up at the other who was doing nothing except gazing back at her with an idiotic grin on his face. "Are you…intentionally trying to make me punch you?", she muttered.

"What was your first clue?".

"Was there something you wanted? If not, you can leave". Cuddy took another sip of water as she glanced at her screen.

"Actually, there is something that I need your authorisation for. But after I saw Cameron this morning, I knew I had to come see you regardless".

Cuddy perked up a little. "Is she suffering too?".

House stroked his chin thoughtfully. "She's looked better, no denying that. I knew something was up when she didn't react to Chase's hopeful flirtation before the differential. Normally she at least says _something_. But this morning? Barely a rise".

"Yeah, well, I'm not drinking on a Monday night ever again".

House recoiled as if he had been stung by a bee. "Whoa, hey. Don't say things like that to me. Know your audience".

Cuddy exhaled softly. "What about you and Wilson last night? You look pretty chipper".

"It was a good bar session, true enough", House nodded sagely.

"So, I do actually have stuff to do – if you tell me what you need, we can move on with our lives as quickly as possible", said the administrator, trying to get back to business.

House got up from his seat on the desk corner. "My patient has either a heart or a lung problem-".

"Sarcoidosis?", Cuddy interrupted.

House looked at his boss pointedly before carrying on as if she hadn't spoken. "The problem is, I don't know which of those two organs sucks".

"Have you tried an EKG?", she asked.

"OK, I know _you_ think you're a doctor, and _I_ really do think it's precious, but let's just assume that you're _not_ a doctor. Let's assume that you are an average hospital administrator almost passed child-bearing age, and I am an expert medical practitioner with decades of experience". House put his hands in his pockets.

Cuddy sighed but she felt too grim to argue. "What are you asking?".

"This woman can't breathe outside the hospital, but she can inside the hospital. This is because we're helping her, and our help is screwing with the test results. I'm suggesting we withdraw the help".

"So…?".

"So, I wanna put a little pressure on her, to see which organ throws in the towel first".

Cuddy folded her arms. "Let me get this straight. You want to give your patient a heart attack?".

"I know, right? If only we were in a hospital with the equipment and people to deal with such things…". The diagnostician brought a finger to his lips, as if thinking deeply.

Again, Cuddy sighed. It was her job to curb House's wacky ideas, and this would ordinarily be one of them. But she had other things to worry about, and he was rarely wrong. "What are the chances your patient will keel over if I allow this?".

"Pretty small, I'd say".

"And it's diagnostically necessary?".

House gave her a hurt look. "I should think so. I'm not usually one for inducing catastrophic system failure simply for kicks. Although, now that you mention it-".

"Fine! But if that patient dies, _you'll_ be dying as well. Now buzz off and close the door on the way out".

House gave the woman a salute and moved to leave. "Thanks, Cuddles. You're the bestest boss ever. Would you like me to grab you a greasy egg and bacon sandwich from the cafeteria? Maybe with some extra mushrooms? They've got some real toadstools on offer today – you can practically see the slime". But Cuddy had already leapt up from her seat and stampeded into her private bathroom. The nephrologist left the office to the sound of his superior's violent retching.

* * *

Cameron and Foreman were in the control room, observing through the glass as Chase affixed the nodes used to measure heart stress to the patient, a middle-aged woman originally from South Carolina but now in New Jersey, she had told them, to live closer to her son, who worked at Princeton University. Normally, the immunologist would have volunteered herself (or been volunteered by the others) to look after the patient – as House had once told her, she looked kinder than Foreman, and more professional than Chase; for that reason, she was often the public face of Diagnostics. In this situation, however, the darkened control room was a sanctuary, and she had no intention of subjecting herself to more bright lights or patient conversation than strictly necessary. Both doctors watched on as Chase carefully attached each wire. "Come on, Chase. We haven't got all day", she snapped through the microphone. The Australian glared back but nevertheless sped up a little.

Foreman glanced sidelong at his colleague, who had been unusually quiet in the differential. "You, er, have a big night?", he asked, somewhat tentatively. He thought she looked very similar to the morning after getting high, when she had slept with Chase.

"What was your first clue?", Cameron asked. Although she had no way of knowing it, this was an exact echo of House's words to Cuddy earlier in the day.

"Your moody silences, constant sighing, and general grumpiness", replied the neurologist.

"Wow, you're so observant. Have you considered being a detective, Sherlock?".

Foreman didn't reply for a moment or two. "Either you have a rocking hangover, or…", he paused, "…it's your time of the-".

"If you finish that sentence, Foreman, I will end you". Cameron had turned her head to stare belligerently into his eyes. "I have brothers. I know exactly where to aim".

Foreman held his hands up, a smile dancing on his lips. "Alright. Where did you go, then?".

They were interrupted by Chase. "Can you double-check the readings on nodes A through C? They look a little off over here".

The neurologist pressed a few buttons, glanced at the bank of screens, and replied through the microphone. "They are. Try realigning them". Chase rolled his eyes but nevertheless did as instructed.

Cameron didn't particularly fancy getting into a lengthy conversation, but the downside of the wonderfully cool and dark room was that it was a confined space, and there was nowhere to hide. "I had a few drinks with Cuddy".

Foreman raised his eyebrows. "Huh. I didn't know you guys hung out".

"Well, I didn't have anyone to discuss nail varnish and tampons with, so I figured I'd try and make a new friend. It went pretty well, all things considered", retorted the brunette, hoping that her tone would stave off further questions.

But Foreman was not for moving. "Y'know", he said, "I'm not gonna stop. In fact, your snappiness is pretty funny".

Cameron shook her head, though not without a little amusement. It was entirely to be expected that he would give her a hard time. When he had first learnt that she liked House, he had been sympathetic, understanding…and pretty annoying. She supposed that Foreman saw himself as the elder brother of the trio. This wasn't a problem for Cameron since she was used to men trying to get under her skin. "Actually, Cuddy asked me yesterday, and I thought 'why not?'. It can get tiresome in here with all the testosterone hanging about. Looking good, Chase", she gave a thumbs up through the window, and he began helping the patient onto the treadmill.

"Fair enough. What's she like outside the hospital? She strikes me as the kind of person who hasn't got many friends". Foreman had half an eye on the data streams.

"Well, _I_ haven't got many friends". Cameron felt oddly defensive on the other woman's behalf. She had come to appreciate Cuddy's strength in the face of an oppressively male-dominated environment. The Dean had mentioned last night that a full three-quarters of her doctors were men, and that rose to 90% when it came to heads of department. Attitudes were changing slowly, but even with a woman at the helm, PPTH lacked female staff in positions other than nursing and secretarial. Whatever could be said about Lisa Cuddy, she was driven, and that was something to admire because it was something Cameron admired in herself. Maybe this was why House liked them both.

The neurologist shrugged, but his next words were disconcertingly accurate regarding her train of thought. "I'm just wondering what you spoke about is all. I can't imagine you have much in common except House".

"That's a pretty big topic of conversation right there", replied the brunette.

"True". Foreman looked at his colleague carefully for a few moments.

"What are you looking at?".

"Nothing", replied the other. "Just as long as he makes you happy".

"Cuddy isn't a man, Foreman", she stated.

"I wasn't talking about Cuddy. I was talking about House. As long as you're happy, then I really hope it works out".

Cameron sighed, suddenly tired of this back and forth. There was no point denying it anymore. "Well, I'm happy. It's still early days, and I'm just taking it one step at a time".

Foreman nodded and turned back to the monitors. "Good".

Cameron fixed her colleague with a surprised glance. "Is that it? No interrogation?".

The neurologist laughed. "I always knew you liked him; I just didn't think he liked you. But I guess my question has been answered. Just tell me one thing – when did it happen?". Foreman decided not to mention that House had asked about Cameron during their so-called 'assessment' a few weeks back. Since that day, he had known it to be a matter of time until they both got together.

The woman grinned, her hangover momentarily forgotten as a weight lifted off her shoulders. "Remember the Sjögren's syndrome patient a few weeks ago? We were in the locker room and you asked if I was OK, then you and Chase left for Turkish food? After that".

Foreman sat back. "No way. You did pretty well to keep it under wraps for that long. I mean, I obviously suspected for ages…".

"I thought you did, to be honest". The two lapsed into silence, keeping a close eye on the patient who was still undergoing the stress test with Chase watching from the side of the room. "And Chase?", she asked, fearing the answer.

The other exhaled, considering his response for a few seconds. "Chase suspected, like me. He also likes you, Cameron, and you should speak to him before any sort of grand reveal". The immunologist nodded as her colleague continued. "I'm friends with both of you, though, and I'd _really_ appreciate not being caught in the middle".

"Huh. I didn't know we friends. See, I distinctly recall you saying that we were co-workers only". Cameron was referring to the time last year when Foreman had published the article she had intended to submit herself. When she had angrily confronted him, he had responded with the statement she had just referenced.

"That was before you saved my life. Thanks for that, pal". He extended his fist and she bumped it, willing to accept the olive branch he offered. The two sat in silence, observing through the window. "But you do need to tell Chase, and sooner rather than later", he added eventually.

The brunette sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I know I do. And I will. But not today".

Foreman inclined his head in acknowledgement and the pair fell silent once more, each lost in their own thoughts.


	46. Alone time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to readers and, especially, reviewers. I really enjoy reading all the feedback I receive, good and bad. Stay safe out there! I've got a bit of a backlog, so I'll upload a few more chapters today and tomorrow.

Cameron walked into Diagnostics waving a piece of paper. "Biopsy and blood results are back. Lucy has chronic sarcoidosis. Who'd have thought – the immunologist was right about the autoimmune disease". The three men were all gathered around the conference table sipping coffee.

House looked up immediately and sighed. Foreman and Chase shot him a shocked glance. "Are you…are you actually upset for a patient?", asked the Australian incredulously.

"Huh? No. Why on earth would you think that?", queried House.

"What was that sigh about then?". Cameron had joined in now.

The nephrologist got to his feet and took his cup to the sink, filling it with water and taking a swig. "My annoyance that Cuddy has just been proved correct. She suggested sarcoidosis yesterday when I mocked her doctoring credentials. God, I'll never hear the end of this". He shook his fist at the ceiling. "Why do you do this to me, man? Is it because I refused to join the church choir in eighth grade?".

Foreman snorted. "You went to church?".

House winked at his employee. "Of course. Where else was a boy to meet eligible chicks?".

"I dunno…the mall?", offered Chase.

"No malls in Japan, my man. Or Egypt, for that matter. Nope, it was the church or nothing. Worked out fine until they actually required you to read the Bible – can you believe it? I stopped going soon after. _Nothing_ was worth having to wade through that thing. Fortunately, it was around the time I discovered my dad's magazines". House paused, looking wistfully at the others. "What a summer that was, let me tell you".

"As fascinating as this is, House, someone should go and inform Lucy", remarked Cameron drily.

The man stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You think she'd be interested in when I discovered masturbation, too? Is she hot?".

The immunologist folded her arms. "She's 58. And I was referring to her diagnosis, not your sexual awakening".

House walked towards the door. "Fine".

"Where are you going?", the brunette asked.

The other rolled his eyes. "To inform our patient about her rare and interesting long-term condition with no cure. Is that OK?".

Now it was Chase's turn to fold his arms at the table. "You're actually going to break the news to a patient yourself?".

House opened the door. "I sure am. I read that's what doctors do, so I figured I'd give it a try. Plus, Dr. Cameron never actually answered my question regarding this woman's hotness, so my interest is piqued".

"That's…good of you", observed the intensivist.

"Thanks. As you know, I live for your approval, Chase". With this, he left the room.

"Someone should go after him, to ensure he acts like a human being", remarked Foreman. But he needn't have worried; Cameron was already on the way out.

* * *

House heard the tapping of feet behind him. He knew without looking back that it was Cameron, so used had he become to the sound of her gait. An image of her walking slowly around his bedroom, barefoot, in her blue dress, flashed through his mind. He shook his head. This was not the time. "You didn't trust me?", he asked as she caught up.

"I trusted you to deliver the diagnosis; I didn't trust you to do it with understanding and tact". Cameron fell into step beside him.

"Understanding and…what was the second word?".

"Tact", she finished.

"Hmm. Well, we'll have to see how it pans out, won't we?". House pressed the button for the elevator and the two stepped inside, its only occupants. "Of course", he continued conversationally, "the second possibility for why you came with me could be because you wanted to mark out your territory in case this woman turned out to be an absolute babe. I can practically smell the pheromones".

Cameron scoffed. "I told you. She's 58".

House glanced sidelong at his companion. "Age isn't a factor in attraction. Isn't that what you said at go-karting?".

The woman shrugged, though she was secretly delighted he had taken her words to heart. "That's true. Well, if you _really_ like her, I won't stand in your way. How's that?".

"That's fair. I wouldn't worry, though. I'm not looking to trade you in just yet". He pulled her close, kissing her hair affectionately. She slipped an arm around his waist and leant into his side. It was nice to show their feelings at work for a change, though she still needed to inform him that Foreman was aware of their relationship. The two remained like this until the doors opened and they walked out. Cameron took two steps, stopped, and turned back to the elevator wordlessly. "What're you doing?", asked House from the corridor.

"Wrong floor, genius".

The diagnostician looked up and down the hallway before sighing and following his subordinate. She pressed the button to the correct level. "Y'know, this wouldn't have happened if you'd actually told me where the hell our patient is".

Cameron smirked and folded her arms. "Forgive me for assuming that you, who have been treating this person for nearly two days, already had that information to hand".

"Don't you know me at _all_?", House retorted. It was his policy to avoid patients at all costs. This was partly why he refused to wear a white coat at work; easier to blend into the scenery that way.

"Yeah, yeah". The pair left the elevator, this time at the correct place, and walked down the corridor.

"So, what're we thinking? Good cop bad cop?", asked the diagnostician.

"Sure thing, Serpico", she replied.

House raised an eyebrow, but placed a hand lightly on her back, whispering in her ear. "You've got some impressive vintage film references in the memory bank. It's a massive turn on". He allowed his stubble to brush her cheek.

"We're at work", Cameron exhaled softly. Nonetheless, her heart fluttered.

"Right you are", he winked, back to business. "This door?". At Cameron's nod, he entered. "Good afternoon, er…Mrs, um…".

" _Reverend_ Cathcart, or Lucy", his colleague whispered behind a hand.

"Reverend? Oh, come on". Once more House gazed at the ceiling before pulling up a chair and fixing his eyes on the surprised woman lying in the bed. For the next fifteen minutes House and Cameron took turns in explaining Lucy's condition and prognosis. Sarcoidosis was serious and had no cure. Still, the symptoms could be managed with careful treatment and judicious use of steroidal medicines. House was just about to explain their application before his phone rang. He left the room abruptly. Cameron finished the conversation and asked, finally, if there was anything else to be said. "No, I think you've…been very thorough, thank you", the woman replied, still recovering her normal breathing.

Cameron smiled. "No need to thank us. I must say, you're taking this very well".

Lucy shrugged. "I was resigned to it…being cancer, to be honest. It runs in my family".

"Well, it's not cancer, but chronic sarcoidosis is no joke, and the treatment is long and gruelling. But although there's no cure, there's a fair chance it'll go away on its own once your immune system works itself out". Cameron double-checked the woman's vitals on the screens by the bed.

"Like I say, as long as it's not cancer I can take anything that comes my way. Would you pass me that glass of water…please?". The immunologist did as she was asked, watching her patient carefully, just in case her laboured breathing worsened as she drank.

"Shall I call a nurse to find your son? He's been with you through all of this, hasn't he?", inquired the brunette.

"Yes, but there's no need. I ordered him to grab some food and get some air. He'll be back soon, no doubt". Lucy took a few sips and handed the cup back to Cameron, who replaced it on the bedside table. "You're very…beautiful for a doctor", remarked the older woman.

Cameron laughed. "Thanks, I guess".

"Forgive me for being so blunt – it must be the lack of oxygen. Don't let my son see you; he'll ask you out…in a heartbeat". Lucy didn't know this, but Cameron had already politely declined his advances. "It won't do him any good, I can see", she continued. "How long have you and that grumpy doctor been an item?", she asked, eyes twinkling.

The immunologist looked up in surprise. "How did you…?".

"Please, dear. I've officiated enough…weddings to detect loving glances when I see them. You're besotted".

Cameron blushed. "Er, well, I wouldn't say-".

Now it was Lucy's turn to laugh. She held up her hands, taking a deep breath. "OK, I won't mention it again. It's none of my business anyway". She glanced at House, who was standing just outside the room, still talking into the phone. "I can see the appeal. He's rugged in an unorthodox kind of way. Terrible manners. Obviously likes you, though, and I suppose that's all you need".

"Well", said Cameron, keen to change the subject. First Foreman; now this random patient. It seemed their secret relationship was not quite so secret after all. "Looks like you're all good for now. I'll have a chat with the nurses, and they'll take you through the next steps and your treatment".

"OK, thanks, Dr. Cameron".

The brunette left the room and stood next to House as he finished his call. "Yeah, just make sure you keep it clean. Yes…", he rolled his eyes, "yes, any cream will do. Just steer clear of anything with cheese paste in it. OK, yes. No, it was a joke. No, I'm pretty sure cheese paste isn't a real thing. Yes. Yep. Will do. Bye".

Cameron raised an eyebrow. "Problem?".

"Angelina Jolie. She's looking to fill the void left by Brad. I told her I'd think about it". House slipped the phone back into his pocket and glanced at the patient through the glass. "Everything go OK in there?".

"Yep. She was convinced it was cancer".

"Join the club. I'll tell Wilson his idea was shared by our patient, a woman with zero medical training. He'll be so proud".

"Either way, she took it pretty well".

The nephrologist nodded. "When you believe in God, everything becomes part of a plan and bad news doesn't seem so bad anymore".

Cameron tilted her head. "I think religion is a little more than that".

House snorted. "Religion only exists because we fear death. It assures us that this is not the end. When man no longer fears death, he no longer believes in the supernatural". The two began walking back to Diagnostics.

"What about the argument that religion gives meaning to the lives of those who believe?", she suggested, glancing at the other.

"You don't need the divine to give you purpose", replied the man.

"I agree, but I'd imagine it's a comfort to think you're not alone; that someone has you in mind".

House stopped suddenly and looked directly into her eyes. "You already have that, Cameron".

The immunologist swallowed as she met his gaze, forcing herself not to pull him into a kiss. Doctors making out in the corridors was probably not a good look for the hospital. House seemed to think similarly, and he cleared his throat, willing the signs of his attraction away. "Are you, er, fully recovered from your hangover?", he asked, changing the subject.

Cameron smiled. It was enough that his feelings were becoming clearer with every passing day. "Yeah. Yesterday was _not_ pleasant". They reached the elevators.

"Speak for yourself. I thought it was hilarious. Cuddy was in some serious strife".

"Oh, yeah?". Cameron pressed the button, but House took her by the hand and led her towards the stairs. "Where are we going?", she asked.

"Elevators are boring", House replied shortly. But rather than head back up to Diagnostics he took her downstairs, to an area of the hospital she'd never seen. The light was dimmer and there was a faint smell of damp in the air. The beige paint was cracked on the wall and the carpet soon gave way to bare concrete.

"Why are we walking to the basement?", she asked, shivering slightly. She had on only a blouse underneath her white coat.

"You'll see". The diagnostician hadn't let go of her hand as they descended, keeping her close.

"I really don't-". Before she could finish her statement, he pulled her roughly into a shadowy alcove and forced her against the wall. At the same time he brought both hands up to her cheeks and crushed his lips to hers. Cameron quickly overcame her surprise and accepted his roving tongue with her own, her hands slipping to his hips, then to his butt. The two kissed passionately for what seemed like several minutes but could only have been thirty or forty seconds.

House bit her lip. "I've always wanted to make out in a stairwell".

"Really?". The brunette nuzzled against his hand.

"Yeah. Plus I've been wanting to kiss you all day. Offering to see the patient was the only way I knew to get you alone". He brushed his lips against her nose, then her forehead. Cameron loved it when he did this; it made her feel wonderfully safe, and it also felt like a gesture of affection reserved only for her. This reflection caused a tremble. House noticed. "Are you cold? We can go back".

"I'm not cold; not with you". Cameron drew him into another kiss. House allowed a hand to slip under her blouse, edging up from the warm skin at her waist, loving the contrast against the roughness of his fingertips and palm; the other he left entwined in her hair, running its strands between his fingers, every now and then scraping his nails gently against her scalp. Cameron purred like a cat. "That feels nice".

"I think your hair is your best physical feature", House replied into her mouth. "The way it catches the light; how it feels. It's always got to me". As he was talking, his hand continued its journey up her back.

"Always?", whispered the other, tilting her head to the side and bringing his mouth to her neck.

"Always", he repeated.

"Give me an example", she murmured, running her own hands through his hair.

"When I turned up at your place, asking you to come back after Vogler…". House began kissing along her jaw, to her ear. "…it was long, dark and straight as you stood there with folded arms. Remember? I told you to unclench".

Cameron smiled. "I remember. You came by in the morning first, though. I could tell you were checking me out in my running gear". House didn't know this, but his surreptitious glances when she'd opened the door had been one of the reasons why she had felt confident enough to demand a date from him as a condition for resuming at PPTH.

"Do you still have those tight shorts and that light blue top?", he asked, returning once more to her mouth.

"Yes. I always wear those when I run. In the summer, anyway. I have jogging bottoms on this time of year". The immunologist reached around and took his hand, which had been resting on her back, and placed it on her butt.

"We should go running together. I can't get Wilson to do anything with me".

"Hmm…". Cameron bit his chin playfully. "We can try, but I think I'll be too fast for you". She snagged his shirt and ran both hands underneath, tracing the bullet scar on his abdomen.

House drew back slightly, eyes flashing despite the dimness, his own hands now at the waistband of her work pants. "Care to place a wager, Dr. Cameron?".

"Sure. I don't mind taking your money", she replied, trying to remain cool, willing her breathing to slow. The woman both loved and hated how he could turn her on so quickly.

"Let's see…". His fingers edged just under the waist. "Friday evening. We've already decided the date is at yours. How about we run from the hospital to your apartment? How far is that?".

"About four miles, I'd say. I've never actually measured…it". The woman could feel his hands move lower. Her heart began to beat faster.

"Fifty bucks says that I can beat you". House had reached the elastic of her panties.

"Double or nothing", she returned, scraping her nails up his back.

"As you wish", he growled. With that, he pushed down completely, gripping her ass with both hands, and engulfing her mouth with his own. The pair kissed fiercely for a time, completely lost in mutual passion, Cameron releasing soft murmurs of delight at her lover's rough caresses. Only the sound of a door opening and muffled voices on the stairs above caused them to break apart slowly. "We should go", whispered House. "Foreman and Chase will be wondering where we've got to".

"Yes", Cameron replied, nibbling his lip regardless.

"Come on", he grinned, removing his hands from her pants to brush a few stray strands of hair behind her ear.

"Hmm". Cameron glanced up the flights of stairs. "It must be five storeys to Diagnostics".

"Probably". House was rebuttoning his shirt which had somehow loosened.

"Wanna race, champ?", she asked, mouth curving into a smile.

House considered it. "Don't you think we're a bit old for that kind of thing? I mean, I know you've only just finished puberty, but still".

Cameron stood with hands on hips. "This coming from the guy who proposed a foot race like three seconds ago. But, hey, if you're scared of getting your butt handed to you by a girl, it's fine".

The nephrologist smirked, but nevertheless inclined his head in agreement. "Fine, but we're locked into that bet. No backing out when I wipe the floor with you. Ready?". Cameron nodded. "OK. Three, two…". The woman tore off before the countdown had finished, leaving House on his heels. _That's the second time she's done that_. With a wry smile he set off in pursuit, taking the steps two at a time.


	47. Hot

House crashed into his office, Cameron following a couple of seconds behind. He bent double, taking in huge gulps of air, feeling the burning in his calves and quads. The woman flopped into the easy chair, chest heaving. Neither uttered anything for a couple of minutes while they recovered. Only after some time had passed did the brunette speak up, watching as House retrieved a water bottle from under his desk. "You're pretty fit, boss. I'll grant you that".

House grinned but didn't reply, instead taking a long swig. Cameron noticed how his tanned skin had become flush with the exertion; how his dark, slightly greying hair had become messy during their race, beads of sweat trailing steadily down his face, through his stubble, before disappearing beneath his open collar. She thought he looked like sex personified. House stretched out, offering her the bottle. Cameron rose from her chair and took it, drinking deeply, sensing his gaze on her body.

The immunologist's blouse clung to her skin, which had become clammy. As she drank, she pulled it away slightly, fanning herself a little, pretending to be unaware that the motion gave him a clear view down her top and to the white lace bra underneath. She had come to realise that House always seemed to love it when she played innocent, as if completely oblivious to her own appeal. Though she'd not yet had time to think on the matter too deeply, she supposed that it came down to the belief that, for him, she _was_ innocent, in a way: her youth and kindness defining features of the woman he knew at PPTH. Except that, as he had learnt on Friday, she _wasn't_ innocent. Cameron suspected that it was this double aspect that most turned him on. And she was going to play it for all she was worth.

"I'm warm". Cameron shrugged out of her white coat and lay it on the easy chair by the door. After a few more fans she handed the bottle back, raising an eyebrow. "What are you looking at?".

"You". House took the bottle and finished it off, gazing at her over the rim.

The brunette smirked. "You think you can just turn those blue eyes on me, and I'll fall into your arms like a lovestruck teenager, Dr. House?".

He placed the empty bottle on the desk, scanning a piece of paper which lay on the surface before once again meeting her eyes with his. "Yes", he replied simply. He started walking forwards slowly, not breaking eye contact. Cameron had a sudden vision of the evening she had mentioned to Foreman yesterday; the moment she and House had first kissed. Then, it had been she who had approached him in this office.

The woman backed away. "You're pretty confident in yourself, aren't you?".

"Yeah", he replied, continuing his approach.

"Well, it isn't going to work", she returned, still retreating. Her heart quickened and she tried desperately to slow it, unwilling to acknowledge the effect he was having.

"Is that so?". Now it was House's turn to raise an eyebrow. Still, he walked towards her.

"You think you're the first to do this? Many guys have tried to seduce me". Cameron had backed up to the glass wall.

House smiled mirthlessly. "I'm sure many guys have". He stood before her, blue looking into green. "But…", he began, "…I'm not 'many' guys, my dear doctor – I have never been refused by a woman. I don't think you're gonna be the one to refuse me now".

"You think so?". The voice emerged in a throaty whisper.

"I _know_ so". House reached out to the side and began to draw the blinds across the glass wall of his office, shielding them from passers-by in the corridor. Despite herself, the brunette leant forwards a touch, allowing them to slide behind her.

"We can't. Chase and Foreman are right next door".

House jerked his head towards the conference room. "Really? Are you sure about that?".

Cameron tore her eyes from his and scanned the adjoining room. It was deserted and the lights were off. The others must've gone to the clinic or something. "We can't", she tried again, eyes returning to his, "it's…it's the middle of the day. We're at work…anyone could…come".

The nephrologist leant across and locked the door. "Yes, we're at work".

Cameron could smell his distinctive musk and the faint tang of his sweat. "We're still...sticky". A telephone rang in the distance. Muffled voices could be heard through the glass as doctors and patients went about their day.

House planted a hand on the wall either side of the woman's shoulders, blocking her in. "Yes, we are".

"So…we're not going to have sex". Although intended as a statement, it emerged more as a question. The woman looked up at her boss, swallowing at the intensity of his expression.

"No, we are not going to have sex", the other agreed, though he remained close, eyes boring into her own. "I'm not ready to bend you over my desk quite yet".

At his words, which were an allusion to the fantasy she had shared with him the previous Friday, disappointment flashed through her system. "So, what are we going to do?".

"We have a couple of options". House brought his lips to the woman's right ear. "Option number one", he whispered, "we make out like no tomorrow".

"I like that option", she replied immediately, bringing a hand up to brush his cheek. There was no point fighting it anymore.

"Wait for the others", he murmured, trailing his lips across her forehead on his journey to her left ear. "Option number two: we watch _Real Hospitals of Los Angeles_ together – it begins in…", he glanced down to his watch, "…five minutes".

Cameron diverted his mouth to hers and smiled. "Wow, that's a big step forward in our relationship. Are you sure you're ready to do that with me?".

"There's only one way to find out", he winked, tilting her chin up with his thumb.

"And the third option?", she breathed.

House grinned. "…is not suitable for work, even with the shades drawn".

Cameron nodded. "How about you whisper it, and I can judge for myself?". The man did as instructed, bringing his lips once more to her ear. As he spoke, Cameron's heart began to race and her breathing became shallow. She moved her hands to his hips and squeezed tightly, feeling warmth spread through her core. House remained in close. "Why didn't you start with that option?". The woman's voice was thick with building arousal.

"I told you. It's not suitable for work". House mirrored the position of Cameron's hands by placing his own at her waist. "Or maybe I wanted to save the best 'til last".

"You're a bad man, Gregory House". Cameron bit his neck, tasting sweat on her tongue. "It makes me so hot".

"That's why I want to lick you, Cameron". The diagnostician's hands found their way under the woman's blouse, lacing around the small of her back. He had decided that he loved the feel of her skin; loved not only how it seemed so smooth against the weathered quality of his own, but also how its paleness stood against his tanned complexion. It reminded him of those statues of Greek goddesses he had read about but never seen.

The brunette kissed along his jaw, murmuring as she progressed. "I don't want you to do it here; I want to enjoy it under my own roof, in my own bed. Or your bed. Either is fine".

"Alright…so which option are you going for?".

"Hmmm". She placed both hands on his chest. "When does your show start?".

"Three minutes".

"How about we have two minutes and fifty seconds of kissing and/or heavy petting, followed by TV?". House laughed at this, causing her to raise an eyebrow inquiringly. "What?".

"Nothing", he replied, kissing her nose, which she wrinkled automatically.

"No. I want to know". She brought a knee up to his groin threateningly, using the other's body as a support.

House looked at Cameron for a few moments, his blue eyes scanning her face. The woman remained quiet, allowing him time to complete whatever internal discussion was occurring behind the scenes. Finally, he tilted his head, as if coming to a decision. "I was just trying to decide whether or not you're too good to be true, or whether I'm missing something".

The immunologist swallowed. This was the first time House had confessed the depth of his feelings. Sure, he'd told her she was beautiful; they'd had sex. But that was all physical stuff. It was stuff which, though obviously nice to hear (with respect to the first) and great to experience (with respect to the second), need not mean anything. Now, however, he was admitting his desire for her as a person. She would not claim this to be love. But it _was_ something. It was all the more touching that he had phrased it in such an idiosyncratic way: not for House was the grand declaration. Instead, it was as if he had somehow missed an aspect of her personality, an unpleasant reality, that had remained hidden despite all they had done. "I…I'm not sure what to say to that", she managed, looking up at his eyes.

House grinned. "Yeah, bit of a bombshell, I'll admit. You wanna make out? I reckon we've got a solid two minutes left; maybe even-".

Cameron surged forwards, pulling his lips to hers, both hands on his face, bucking her hips into his groin as her tongue burst into his mouth. House overcame his initial surprise and released a throaty growl. His hands had been laced around her back and he used them to pick her up and hold her against the wall, the sudden movement drawing a gasp from the woman, who kissed him as hard as she could. Cameron at once hooked her legs against his hips, frantically running both hands under his shirt, trying to feel as much of him as possible. She dug her nails in hard, loving how the muscles scarcely seemed to yield. "You and your big mouth", she whimpered. "You…you always know what to say…I fucking hate it".

House didn't reply, instead hugging her tightly to his body, feeling her nipples through the thin weave of his shirt. His hands continued to caress her back, in spite of the awkward position, running over the strap of her bra. "I was doing fine 'til I met you, House…I was a good girl. And now all I can think of when I see you is sex…". The brunette brought a hand up to his hair and held it firmly, keeping his mouth in place. The other she used to roam his flanks, leaving marks in his skin, loving his growled responses.

House kept one arm around her waist, but the other he rested under her butt, feeling the outline of her underwear as he kissed back forcefully, allowing her hair to tangle in his face, smelling pineapple. Cameron tilted her head to the side and he needed no second invitation to lick and bite along her jaw and throat, snagging the silver necklace in his teeth for a moment, before returning to the woman's mouth, which was open as she took in shallow breaths. "You're so yummy", he muttered.

"It's for you, House. It's always been for you". The brunette could feel the shades crinkle and twist as he manipulated her body, opening up different areas of her flesh to his roving tongue. She hiked her blouse up so that it rested under her chin, and he dipped his head, lapping vigorously at the spots he could reach. Though it would be easy to toss the shirt and bra, neither felt like breaking apart even for a moment. There was something powerfully erotic about giving in to their desire while still fully clothed, as if the act signalled how far they had come. So many times they had stood in this office as colleagues – but now they were something more. Cameron glanced across at her white lab coat resting on the chair, felt House's stubble and tongue, and held him even tighter.

After a few moments, House strode over to the desk, still holding his lover firmly against his chest, still meeting her passionate kisses. Without a word he rested her on the wood, pushing aside the papers and keyboard. The balls tumbled to the floor. His hands skimmed up the other's back, pinching the skin, feeling its warmth. "Cameron", he breathed, "are you sure I can't eat you? I can be quick. No one has to know".

"You think I don't want that, House? You think I haven't dreamt of your head between my legs for two fucking years?". Cameron bit his lip hard, causing him to exhale sharply. The nephrologist pushed forwards, forcing the woman to lie back. This angle opened up her breasts, and he wasted no time in planting frenzied kisses down her throat and upper chest, roughly caressing her, forgetting all finesse. Cameron ran her hands though his hair, guiding each movement as best she could, loving each instinctive reaction. Only when House glanced up, somewhat sated, did she pull him back to her lips. "Kiss me again, House". The other followed the instruction, gently returning her to a sitting position on the edge of the desk. They kissed tenderly for a few moments. Only when the passion was completely spent did the pair finally break apart, breathing heavily. Cameron nuzzled his nose. "That was pretty hot".

House grinned. "Agreed". He helped her hop from the desk, and both brushed down their crumpled clothing. "When you talk to me like that…it's dangerous".

"Why do you think I do it, huh?", she winked at him. House's strength was thoughtfulness and rationality – though not unique to him, of course, it was a significant aspect of who he was. But she was beginning to learn that there were ways to disrupt his usually measured approach, if only for a brief time. It made her feel incredibly powerful and helped offset the man's formidable effect on her own self-control.

"I know exactly why you do it", he retorted.

"Of course you do. You're a smart dude. Doesn't mean you can resist me".

House suddenly pulled her close again. "I can't resist you, Cameron. That's the problem".

"Well, where you see a problem…", the woman tapped his nose with a finger, "…I see an opportunity". House grunted at this, though released her after a final peck on the lips. "Hey, where did Foreman and Chase get to?", she asked, head tilted.

The nephrologist picked up a piece of paper from the floor and gestured towards it. "Wilson left a note saying he'd borrowed them. I knew we'd be alone".

Cameron smiled. "Funny how things work out, ain't it?".

"Yep. Anyway, move over. I wasn't kidding about _Real Hospitals_. We've probably missed the first few minutes but it's still salvageable". House yanked over the easy chair, unlocking the door and sliding the blinds back at the same time.

"Roger that", she replied. Each took a seat while House switched over to the right channel, quickly explaining the main characters. Cameron kept her questions to herself. There would be another time for in-depth plot breakdowns.

Wilson found them like this half an hour later. He had entered through House's office door, eyebrow raised at the scene. "I'm glad you guys are working hard".

The diagnostician replied without looking at his friend. "I checked with mom. She said it was fine".

"Uhuh". Wilson walked forwards, brushing against a baseball, which he picked up. "What's this doing over here?".

House and Cameron looked at each other quickly. "Er, probably just dislodged somehow. Hard to say. Any ideas, Dr. Cameron?".

The brunette shrugged, a picture of innocence. "Nope, no clue sorry, Dr. House".

The oncologist sighed, walking over to replace the ball on the desk. "You two aren't half as adorable as you seem to think you are".

"We disagree". House reached out with his fist, bumping it against Cameron's. "If you're gonna stay, you'll need to be quiet. Carletta's thinking about finally leaving Paul, even after he chose her over Alice".

"And what do we think about that?", asked Cameron, glancing at her boss.

"We're in favour. Paul is toxic. Carletta belongs with Trey", he replied. Once again, the oncologist sighed. Nevertheless, he perched on the edge of the desk, resigned to sharing in just one more of his genius friend's utterly mundane hobbies.


	48. Oncology rocks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed the two episodes in the series which took the perspectives of Wilson and Cuddy. House appeared only tangentially in these. The following chapter is a riff on that theme, adapted for my Hameron obsession and the requirements of this story. The title is borrowed from Friends (Ross has a bag with a patch 'geology rocks!'). Unfortunately, I couldn't think of a similar pun for oncology. 

It was Friday morning and Wilson was working at his desk, attempting to make a dent in some of the paperwork that always seemed to accrue during the course of any given week. Oncology was one of the larger departments in the hospital, and certainly one of the best-funded, by virtue of the fact that cancer had yet to yield to human intervention. Somebody somewhere would win a Nobel Prize and everlasting fame if they managed to crack _that_ particular chestnut. Such things were far from his mind, though. Despite all the resources, he still had not managed to secure a personal assistant. So here he was validating reports, authorising equipment requisitions and scanning performance reviews; not really what he got into oncology for, but vital tasks, nonetheless. For a brief moment he wondered how House dealt with such things, but the thought was so ludicrous he snorted out loud.

There was a knock at the door and he called 'come in', quickly composing his features – he didn't want the visitor to think that he had been laughing at his own jokes. He had a reputation of non-weirdness to maintain, after all. Cuddy stepped through the door and closed it, giving her employee a funny look. "What're you chuckling about? Have I got toothpaste on my chin or something?".

"It's not you, it's me", replied Wilson, gesturing to the seat opposite.

The Dean sank into the seat and placed her iPad on the desk. "Ugh, you sound like my ex-boyfriend. Some guys just can't accept strong women. Or maybe it was because I blew him off one too many times".

The other tilted his head. "Huh. See, I'd have guessed most guys would actually love that from their girlfriends…".

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "I swear you people are so obvious sometimes".

"By that you mean oncologists specifically or men generally?".

"What do you think?", she raised an eyebrow.

"Romance is dead is what I think". Wilson took a swig of coffee.

"Uhuh". Cuddy tapped her fingers on the desk. "D'you know, I've completely forgotten what I came up here for. Why don't you talk at me for a bit while my brain reboots".

"Alright". The man glanced through a few of the papers on his desk. "I've been going through the applicants for the vacant position in Smith's wing. There's a guy from Harvard and another from John Hopkins I'd like to invite in for a chat, and a third from Cambridge".

"England?", she asked.

"Yeah, she looks high quality. Already published some decent stuff and has completed residencies both here and in the UK". Wilson located the relevant file and read off some more details.

Cuddy nodded, pleased that PPTH was still able to attract international talent despite the Vogler debacle. This reflection had jogged her memory, but she replied to Wilson first. "Sounds good. Bring her in. I'm actively encouraging department heads to pursue female doctors and those from non-white backgrounds".

"Well, this woman is white".

The other shrugged. "Can't win them all, eh? Just as long as she doesn't snort cocaine like the last guy you hired". The administrator reached across and took up the coffee mug, taking a sip. "I remember now why I came in. The Vogler replacement-".

But Wilson had already raised a hand. "I've told you already – I left the Board for a reason". As a sitting member, the oncologist had been forced to witness Vogler's railroading of the hospital management, and his efforts to have House's tenure terminated. Although Wilson knew all too well the consequences of his friend's way of practising medicine, he didn't appreciate the almost vindictive ruthlessness with which the millionaire sponsor had pursued his aims. Vogler had been defeated in the end, but the experience had soured things, and Wilson had resigned his position on the Board soon after.

"I know that, James, but I'd really appreciate it if you'd hear me out. If you still refuse, I won't mention the thing again".

Wilson sighed but inclined his head in assent nevertheless. When Cuddy used his first name he knew it was important. "Fine. What's up?".

"We've narrowed it down to a couple of candidates, and the Board are meeting with the favoured choice on Monday evening".

The oncologist took up a pen and started twirling it between his fingers. "Why is this guy the frontrunner?".

"Well, quite". Cuddy took a deep breath. "He's interested chiefly _because_ of House. And if you were willing, I'd want you to sit in on our chat and listen to what he has to say; help us make sure it's all kosher. The last thing I want is another House-centred blowout".

"If this fellow likes House, I'd say he's already got my vote. Frankly, I'm unsure why you're so apprehensive. It's not like sponsors are falling over themselves to fund us, is it?".

"No", she conceded. "But I'm not taking any chances, and I can't afford another misstep on this front. This man admires House from afar, but you know as well as I that when people get up close to him, he can be…difficult".

Wilson laced his hands together. "Are you planning on introducing them?".

"I'm afraid so. A face to face is one of the conditions. Aside from that he's promised us free rein. So, will you come to the meeting and help us sound the guy out?".

"I'll come, if only to satisfy my own curiosity as to what someone who is open to House actually looks like". The man took another sip of coffee as Cuddy tapped away on her iPad. "Are you gonna tell him he has a fan?".

Cuddy snorted. "Absolutely not. I don't want his ego getting any bigger. First Cameron, now this sponsor…it's a funny old world". Wilson smiled as she continued: "Speaking of, any Hameron news you can share?".

The other laughed. "What, are we in the schoolyard now?".

"Oh, come on. We both know it's a hot topic. Did he say anything at the bar?".

Wilson shrugged. "They had a steamy date and he seems happy, as happy as I've seen him in a long time".

The Dean nodded. "I can say the same for Cameron. If this thing ends, it won't be her that ends it. I think it may be love".

"Mmm". Wilson decided against telling his friend about House's confession in this very office that he was falling for his immunologist. Gossip was one thing, but revealing deep feelings shared in confidence was another matter entirely. "Well, it's still early days. But the next few weeks and months will be interesting, that's for sure".

"Agreed. Anyway, I'll let you get back to it – see you later", said Cuddy, getting up and walking to the door. "I'll email you the meeting time for Monday". Wilson waved her goodbye and sat thinking whilst he finished his coffee. It was good that PPTH would soon have a new sponsor. He knew more than most how much flak Cuddy had taken for the manner in which Vogler had treated, then left, the hospital; he knew also the pressure she was under simply for being a woman in a man's world. As for House and Cameron, the oncologist suspected that she, like him, was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that their impossible friend seemed to have found a kindred spirit in the young brunette. The _real_ question was how long it could last – that was anyone's guess. The one thing he had learnt after many years of friendship with House was that he tended to be predictably unpredictable.

* * *

Wilson entered one of the treatment rooms and smiled at the lady sitting on the bed wrapped in a standard issue hospital gown. "Hi. Bianca Graham, I assume? I'm Dr. Wilson. You can call me James; I hear you've been seeing Dr. Steiner?".

The woman, who was extremely pretty, smiled nervously. "Hello. Yes. Dr. Steiner says they're probably just calcium deposits".

Wilson nodded and put on his latex gloves. "Well, with your history you did the right thing getting checked out".

"Do you think there's a chance it could be cancer?", she asked worriedly.

The doctor glanced at her file, before throwing her a comforting look. "Well, it's possible – breast cancer is one of those that can run in families. But given your youth and lifestyle, I'd say it's pretty unlikely. But that's what we're here to find out. If you could just pull the gown down a touch, that would be perfect". The woman did as instructed. "That's plenty, thanks. Try and relax".

Wilson spent the next fifteen minutes carefully checking his patient. Only when he was completely satisfied did he make a note on the file and remove his gloves. "Well, the good news is that I'm almost positive it's not breast cancer. But there are several formations in the tissue I'd like to look at more closely".

Bianca looked so relieved at the news that he felt like giving her a congratulatory pat on the shoulder. But such a thing was entirely inappropriate. "OK. Could these formations be dangerous?", she asked, retying her gown.

"It's highly unlikely. Calcium deposits are not unusual – the human body is a marvellous thing, but there are so many little variations. What we need to do is ensure that these variations don't turn out to be malignant; hence why I'm booking you in for a mammogram. The most likely outcome is they're deposits, and absolutely nothing to worry about".

"And if they are deposits? What then?".

"Generally, we advise you leave them in situ, since they don't actually affect your health. But if you wanted, we could probably remove them with laser surgery". Wilson had poured the woman a glass of water, which he handed to her.

She accepted the drink with a smile and took a sip. "OK. And the mammogram?".

"The mammogram is uncomfortable, to be honest. To get a good scan the nurse will have to squeeze your breasts pretty hard between the paddles of our instruments. But it's a quick procedure, and after that we'll know for sure what we're dealing with".

"Alright. Thanks, James". Bianca smiled again.

"No problem. I'll inform the nurse and we'll get you booked in as soon as possible". With that, Wilson left the room, silently berating himself for harbouring unprofessional thoughts. House joked about it, but Wilson often found himself dealing with such things. It was a source of intense embarrassment and stemmed chiefly from the fact that he had been unhappily married for a good stretch of his medical career. Now, though, he was single, and part of him missed female companionship. Unlike House, the oncologist loved being in a relationship, loved having someone to come home to. He wandered over to the nurse station, relayed his instructions, and headed back to his office.

Naturally, he would never hit on a patient, especially one worried sick by a cancer scare. Wilson had standards. Still, he was always on the lookout for wife number...four? Even he forgot occasionally. Mathilde had been the most recent half-decent prospect, but that effort had been torpedoed by House, and she had ended up with Chase anyway. He didn't particularly fancy following after the Australian. Cameron seemed to be the only woman in the hospital who didn't find him devilishly attractive. Wilson knew his own limitations. Still, he was an eternal optimist, and if House of all people had managed to find a partner, he remained confident that the right woman would come his own way eventually. Naturally, he'd never dream of confiding any of this to the diagnostician.

Wilson glanced at his watch as he made his way past the lab. There would be time for a quick sandwich and water before he was to chair a departmental end-of-week meeting. The three fellows were heading towards him. "Small world. Lab time?", he asked.

"Nah, we've all been sent to the clinic to make up House's weekly quota before end of play today", replied Foreman. The immunologist, standing beside her colleague, rolled her eyes. She really disliked sports metaphors, and House wasn't even here, so it was completely unnecessary.

"Ah, enjoy!". The oncologist moved off.

"Oh, by the way, Wilson, as it happened, our patient didn't have cancer after all", said Cameron, turning around quickly.

"Huh. But the granulomas?". Wilson was surprised.

"Sarcoidosis", she finished.

"I guess it's House 1 Wilson 0 then". Although obviously pleased for the patient, it rankled that his friend had beaten him to a diagnosis.

"Actually, it's Cuddy 1 House 0 Wilson 0. Our lord and master thought it was pneumocystis pneumonia". Chase this time.

"Nice. I can rest a bit easier tonight. Have fun in the clinic". The doctors parted ways. Wilson punched the button for the elevator. As he waited, he reflected for a moment on Cameron. Only she would have thought to inform Wilson about the welfare of a patient in whom he had shown interest, and even that was a passing consultation two days ago. Most doctors wouldn't have bothered. The woman was like House in a number of ways, unlike him in others. He supposed the two complemented each other. His best friend was a lucky man. Wilson stepped into the elevator and glanced again at his watch. The sandwich would have to wait.

* * *

"OK, so as I say, Ben, I'll interview these people initially and then send them on to you if they pass muster. Sound good?". Wilson was wrapping up his meeting and looking forward to some food.

"Yes. But it'll need to be sooner rather than later. My guys are overstretched at the moment, and I'm not sure how much longer it can go on like this. Ideally, I'd want another couple of doctors, one of whom would have a specialism in childhood cancers". Ben Smith was a round fellow with a kindly face.

"I understand. I'll see what I can do. Does anyone have something else to add or are we all done here?". Wilson scanned the room, noting the shaking heads. "Excellent. See you next week". The others trooped out of the conference room while the head of oncology packed away his laptop and papers over the rumbling of his own stomach.

"Dr. Wilson? Could I have a word, please?".

The addressed looked up and smiled at the young man who had remained. "Sure. What's up, Dr. Patel?".

The man fidgeted with his hands. "I was hoping I could consult you on a...personal matter".

"Fire away".

"I was wondering what the official line was regarding, er, relationships at work?".

Wilson stopped shuffling papers. "Got someone in your sights, Patel?".

"That depends", he answered, "on what the policy is".

"The policy is that as long as the relationship doesn't affect your work, it's fine". As he spoke, Wilson's mind flashed back to yesterday, when he'd found House and Cameron in Diagnostics. The two had been almost glowing in the aftermath of a romantic entanglement. If he was willing to allow his best friend to get away with a workplace dalliance, it would be hypocritical of him to insist that his own employees remained unattached. All the same, no one had actually brought up the issue before now. "This isn't a monastery, and as long as you're adult about it, the hospital trusts you to know what's appropriate and what isn't".

Patel sighed in relief. "Great, thank you. See you later".

Wilson smiled and nodded as the other left the room. It seemed everyone was making progress on the romantic front except him. _Oh well_. With a final glance at his watch, the oncologist made his way to the door and switched off the lights. A full afternoon of appointments awaited.

* * *

Several hours later Wilson had just waved goodbye to his final patient and was contemplating finishing a couple of outstanding note write-ups. But the thought quickly vanished – the stuff could wait until Monday. What he wanted was a cold beer and a night in front of Netflix. There was a new Spanish series he'd had his eyes on for a while. Maybe he could start that and order some paella. _Yes, that would do very nicely_. He quickly checked his email, tidied up and shrugged into his coat, locking the door behind him.

Wilson ambled down the corridor. As he approached Diagnostics he briefly considered asking if House wanted to hang out, but decided against it. Hameron were still in the honeymoon phase and didn't need him encroaching on their alone time. Still, their office was on the way out. He glanced through the glass and saw the couple chatting in the shared office. "Evening", he said, walking in.

"Hi", smiled Cameron.

"Did Cameron reveal how wrong you were about our patient?", smirked House.

"She may've mentioned something, yeah", replied Wilson drily.

"Excellent, excellent". The nephrologist clasped his hands behind his head.

"So what's on the docket for Hameron tonight? Spot of dancing in the club, perhaps? A film? Maybe a romantic comedy featuring the talents of Hugh Grant or Sandra Bullock?". The oncologist leant against the glass wall.

House pretended to dry heave. "What the heck is a Hameron?".

"I believe it's a combination of our names. See, you're called Gregory _House_ and I'm called Allison _Cameron_. That's clever", the immunologist chimed in.

The tall doctor looked at his subordinate. "Yes, thank you, professor. If you think that's clever, there's no hope for us".

Cameron snorted, but turned to the kindly brown eyes of the man by the door. "To answer your question, we're going jogging. But the way your friend's carrying on, I think he's trying to worm his way out of it".

"You wanna place a bet, James? Camster thinks she can outrun me". House had started tapping a beat on the table.

Wilson tilted his head. "Don't 'James' me. You think you, a recovering drug addict, borderline alcoholic, formerly cane-bound, middle-aged man can run faster than a youthful, healthy, able-bodied woman?".

The diagnostician opened his mouth in shock. " _Et tu, Brute_? Anyway, you're forgetting my competitiveness. I don't know how to lose".

"Yep, no, sure. I'm still backing Cameron", he replied. The woman folded her arms and grinned at her boss.

"Fair dinkum. Fifty bucks says you're wrong. I just quoted Shakespeare, by the way, you damned philistines", retorted House.

"Fine. Fifty bucks". Wilson pointed at Cameron. "Don't lose".

"No problem. I can take him". The brunette went to the sink and poured herself a glass of water.

"Right. I'm off. Enjoy yourselves, kids. Let me know how it goes". With that, Wilson left with a wave, leaving the pair alone. House exhaled through his nose, a ghost of a smile on his lips. He'd set himself a tricky task, for sure. But now was not the time for second guessing himself.

Cameron moved to stand over him. "Let's go, buster. We've got a date with destiny".

House got to his feet and looked down at his girlfriend, blue eyes flashing. "Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?".


	49. Catch me if you can

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a silly little chapter, but since both Cameron and House run in the series, and since I love running myself, I couldn't miss the opportunity to write this. If you don't like running, or entries with few lines of dialogue, feel free to skip this one. Nothing much happens.

"Is that what you're wearing?". Cameron stood with hands on hips as she appraised her companion. The two had reconvened in the office after changing into their running gear. The woman had gone for GORE-TEX jogging pants, gloves and layers, and her hair was tied back into a high ponytail. Her phone was fixed to her arm, ready for the earbuds, and there was a Fitbit on her wrist, already pre-programmed with resting heart rate, estimated time, including kilometre splits, and projected calory consumption. House, meanwhile, had gone for a t-shirt, shorts and the sneakers he wore at work.

"You reckon it's too much? I thought about just going naked like the ancient Greek athletes – but I didn't particularly fancy getting picked up for public indecency", he replied, taking a draught of water from his bottle.

"Aren't you going to be cold?", the brunette smirked, completing a few stretches.

"See, that's the beauty of running – it warms you up. Besides, I wanna make absolutely certain that people can read my t-shirt". House glanced down at the writing, which read 'I'M WITH STUPID' followed by an arrow pointing to the side. "Remind me to run on your right, by the way".

"Sure thing. But what if I leave you eating my dust? Then your little slogan will be ineffective". Cameron took a swig out of her own bottle before stowing it under the desk.

The diagnostician nodded sagely. "That's a possibility, I'm not going to lie to you. But if it happens, I'll at least be able to check out your ass more easily. So it's a win-win as far as I'm concerned".

She grinned. "The official line is that I'm offended and you're a pig".

House threw a salute. "Acknowledged. Show me the map? I want to doublecheck if we're going the way I know". Cameron did as asked, highlighting the path on her phone. Though they'd set off together there was a possibility that one of them would pull ahead, and House didn't want unfamiliarity with the route to be the reason why he lost. He could endure losing in a straight race – as Wilson had mentioned, Cameron was a fair bit younger – but geographical ignorance was not a viable excuse.

The two made their way down to the hospital entrance, House carrying out some stretches of his quads and thighs. His leg had been pretty good over the last couple of months, in spite of one or two minor twinges. As with most things, regular exercise had grooved him into it, and he wasn't anticipating any problems. Swimming was the ideal since it was low-impact, but he didn't know if Cameron was into that. "I'm gonna listen to my music, OK?", she said, beginning to take a series of exaggeratedly deep breaths.

House inclined his head. "Whatever. I'll let you lead off. Also, what the hell are you doing?".

"I'm oxygenating my blood, dummy". The woman continued her routine.

"It's a good thing you're hot because you look like a right weirdo at the moment".

"Enough trash talk – are we doing it or what? I've got serious money riding on this". Cameron selected her workout playlist and slipped on her earphones. The doctors exited the hospital and looked at each other. House gestured, allowing the woman to take the lead, and they set off through the parking lot before making it out onto the street.

Both quickly settled into a rhythm, Cameron using the music beat to aid her breathing. House had won the sprint up to Diagnostics from the basement, but she anticipated being able to pull ahead over this longer distance. Though he had been able to resume hard exercise after the ketamine treatment, and had already proved himself to be fit, there was no substitute for the stamina borne from the kind of regular workouts that she had been able to enjoy over the last couple of years.

Unknown to Cameron, her companion's thoughts were following along similar lines. House was intensely competitive, but even he was forced to admit the long odds of winning this race. The simple fact was that he was older – and despite his leg having healed, he'd quickly realised upon resuming exercise that the body ached more than it had years ago. Getting out of bed the following morning was always the challenge. As he pounded the pavement, House thought back on the sports he had enjoyed for the first half of his life, until the infarction. If pushed, he'd confess lacrosse and swimming to be his favourites, though rowing and cricket came a close second, despite the reality that he'd not played the last one in many years. Cricket teams were rare in New Jersey.

The pair ran side by side along the sidewalk. Every now and then, one of them would tuck in behind to let a cyclist by, or to overtake a pedestrian themselves. House was content to stay on Cameron's outside shoulder as they reached the halfway point, allowing her to set the pace. The nephrologist was comfortable enough at this stage, focusing on maintaining consistent strides. It had been a long time since he had run with someone and he was thoroughly enjoying it. Even since he had returned to work, Wilson had been unwilling to join in for joint exercise. No reason had been given for this reluctance, though House assumed it was because the oncologist feared pushing him too hard. _As if that guy could beat me_. Spurred on by this thought, he resolved to keep pace for as long as possible. If he remained close, there was a chance he'd be able to use his greater strength to stretch free in the sprint.

Cameron could see House in her peripheral vision. Already she was quietly impressed that he had managed to stay on her shoulder past halfway. The man was a natural athlete – long of stride, loose of limb, and possessed also of a fierce determination to see things through. Cuddy had noted as much when the women had met up for a drink on Monday, even though the context to the comment was completely different. At that thought, a sudden thrill of anticipation coursed through her system as she realised what awaited when they made it back to her apartment. The brunette was combining one of her favourite things, running, with something – some _one_ – who was rapidly becoming her _most_ favourite thing.

As the pair navigated the darkening streets, as they pushed through the autumnal evening, Cameron experienced a burst of euphoria. Running with House beside her, feeling the breeze against her face, felt amazing. For so long, they had been nothing more than colleagues, and he had been forced to rely on a cane simply to walk. But now, as his partner, she could share in his liberation and enjoy it with him. Still, this reflection didn't mean that she was going to take it easy. Not only did she not fancy losing a hundred dollars, but Wilson also had a stake in her success. If House beat her, he beat Wilson. They'd never hear the end of it. Cameron increased her speed, testing to see if her competitor would respond.

House scanned the surroundings, noting that they were about fifteen minutes away from Cameron's apartment. He'd expected her to try and pull ahead at this stage, to take advantage of her superior stamina and lighter tread. If he conceded a lead now there was no chance of making it up at the end. Instead, he had to remain on her shoulder for as long as possible. Like in football, if he could drag it out to the final quarter anything was possible. Cameron would love that sports metaphor. _I'll tell it to her later: she'll appreciate that_.

As the speed increased, House could feel his legs begin to burn and his breathing, which had been deep and regular, become more ragged. Buildings he recognised passed by with greater frequency: here was the bakery he'd bought the chocolate brownie before their first date; there the German restaurant where they'd nearly been caught during an intimate moment. If he was still in touch when they reached the bank he stood a chance. Luckily, Cameron's music would drown out the sound of his strain. If she knew how much he was struggling she'd likely sprint off into the distance. If that happened, there was no chance he could keep up. The one advantage was his convenient position in her slipstream. The New Jersey wind blew strongly into their faces, but as the leader Cameron took the brunt of it as she ploughed a course through the gloom.

Cameron looked askance at House. She was setting a serious pace, yet he hung on grimly. The two flew past a young woman talking on her phone, who noticeably flinched as the runners overtook to the right and left. The Fitbit display beeped: personal bests for the last two kilometres. The immunologist had no idea how House was feeling, but it couldn't be better than her. Despite the chilly air, sweat pricked down her face, and she wiped an arm roughly across her forehead. She could feel her heart hammering in her ears, and a fearsome stitch spearing through her ribs. Still House remained on her shoulder. _How the fuck is this guy still with me?_ The bank passed by on their left. Home was two minutes away. She was _not_ going to lose.

House had decided he was going to be sick at the end of this, the tell-tale heaviness settling in his stomach. Perhaps a pre-race snack and a coffee hadn't been the best idea – it was sloshing around, as if fighting to get out. _Idiot, Greg. Rookie mistake_. He ran a quick internal diagnostic check as they turned into the street one over from the finish line.

Legs: cement. Urgent maintenance required.

Breathing: unsustainable. System reboot advised.

Insides: explosion predicted. Seek shelter.

Prognosis: inevitable doom.

_Fantastic_.

House's breaths had become so tortured that each exhalation sounded more like a cry for help. The only consolation was that he could hear Cameron's difficulty as well. Throughout the race, she had maintained a consistent rhythm of nose inhalation followed by mouth exhalation. But now she was gulping down air in wild swallows, like someone trying desperately to keep their head above water. This recognition brought him comfort, and he attempted to summon up courage for the final sprint as they turned into her road. But his body wouldn't obey, legs in treacle. Cameron seemed to notice and kicked on, ignoring the pain and her screaming lungs. At last, she pulled ahead. House could do nothing. Though his mind was strong, more speed was impossible. It was over.

The brunette reached the door of the apartment block and immediately bent double. She didn't have the strength to acknowledge the other, who pulled up nearby, some seconds later. House made his way over to the bushes. Both remained silent for a couple of minutes, taking deep breaths. "Good race", Cameron muttered. "I didn't think you'd be that close".

The diagnostician grimaced. "Neither did I".

"How are you feeling?", she asked, hands clasped behind her head.

Rather than reply directly, House inquired: "How attached are you to this hedge?".

Cameron eyed him warily, though with a glimmer of amusement. "It's communal, so not overly. Are you in strife?".

"Absolutely not. Peak…ugh…condition. Just out of curiosity, do you have a spare toothbrush and mouthwash upstairs?".

"Yeah, you're all covered. I even have some guy clothes for you to change into". Cameron glanced down at her device. They'd set a rapid time.

"Excellent, excellent", replied the other, promptly throwing up into the greenery.

The evening was off to a flying start.


	50. Past and present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The description of Cameron's place is adapted from the season 1 episode 'Kids'. The case they discuss occurs in the season 2 episode 'Clueless' which is a decent Hameron entry and just one of the many missed opportunities the showrunners had to explore the relationship between our two protagonists. I mean, I don't blame them; the writers had their own priorities. But _this_ writer only has one priority!
> 
> On the question of priorities, this is the **fiftieth** chapter. I never thought I'd get this far when I started. It's been unbelievably good fun. I want to say a big thank you to everyone who has commented, kudosed, bookmarked and read this story. It's a massive motivator to know that people are enjoying it as much as I am, and as long as there's an audience for this I'll be writing for a good while yet. Bigger picture, we're still in the honeymoon and comfort phase, but I reckon I've got a long-term plan that isn't all plain sailing. I'm not going to give any plot or timing clues but just remember that, whatever happens, this story exists for Hameron… 

House and Cameron took the elevator to her floor even though it was only one flight up. Although the former already felt better, there was no point using the stairs. Once Cameron had unlocked the door and led them into her apartment she poured them both a glass of water. House threw his wallet and phone on the sidetable, but not before peeling off a hundred dollars and speaking in a posh British accent: "Well played, madam. Your decision to double it up was inspired".

The brunette accepted the money with a laugh. "In fairness, the odds were stacked in my favour".

House shrugged. "I knew what I was getting into. Our next contest will go differently, though".

"Oh, yeah? Got any ideas?", she replied, taking a sip of water.

The diagnostician leant against the counter, tilting his head slightly. "How'd you feel about swimming or cricket?".

"I know more about the first than the second, as you might expect. Y'know, since I'm American, and Americans don't play cricket". Cameron had yet to ask the other about his interest in this sport and where it came from. It had been a question to which she had long wanted an answer, not because it was important or a defining feature of his personality but because its very triviality made it automatically more interesting to her, as if its explanation would afford yet another glimpse behind the curtain.

The immunologist had come to appreciate that, in the best possible way, House was a man of simple pleasures – he liked sex, drink, sport and TV. So far so normal. But alongside all this was that streak of the special that set him apart – his relentless rationality, his unusual sarcasm, his mastery of music, his desire to see puzzles everywhere and to solve them at the cost of everything else. More than this, though, she appreciated his characteristic blend of strength and vulnerability, in both mind and body.

As she had told him in their office, House was by turns the strongest man she had ever met and the weakest: one day insisting on a course of treatment despite conventional medical wisdom and rescuing a seemingly hopeless cause; the other taking off on his motorbike and fleeing feelings like a boy avoiding bedtime. The man was a walking paradox, exemplified, she thought, in this passion he had for a sport which, at first glance, appeared completely uninteresting.

House raised an eyebrow. "What're you thinking?".

Cameron placed her empty glass in the sink. "I'm thinking", she said, "how a man who loves monster trucks and go-karts, sex and drugs, can also love cricket".

The other rolled his eyes, though his voice was playful. "This again. Maybe you should just stop asking, eh?".

"Maybe I shouldn't have worked under you for two years", she replied with folded arms. House had taught his fellows to question everything. It wasn't her problem that this impulse had transferred from the professional to the personal.

"Ahhh, so _now_ I see what you're getting from this – you're indulging the teacher/student fantasy. Predictable. I'm up for it, though", he winked at her. "Just, for the love of Satan, don't start calling me 'daddy'".

But Cameron wasn't ready to let him off the hook that easily. "I want you to tell me why you like this particular sport".

"Why? It's just sport", retorted House.

"Because I want to know, that's why". Cameron's tone was light but insistent. House still hadn't come to terms with the realisation that _she_ was curious too.

"Fine, I'll tell you. But I think you'll be disappointed in the answer. There's no deep reason. But before I do, I need a shower and a toothbrush". House placed his empty glass next to the one already in the sink and moved towards the bathroom. "It's this way, right?". He remembered the layout of her apartment from their first date, when he had chased her through the rooms. It was only a month or so ago yet felt longer, given how much their relationship had progressed.

"Good guess. I'll lay out a towel and some clothes for you as well. Hopefully they fit…".

House inclined his head in thanks. "Are they the last remnants of your teenage I-love-eating-cookie-dough phase?".

Cameron snorted but when she replied her voice was far-off. "Actually, they belonged to my husband".

"Ah. I didn't mean-", he began, before the woman cut him off with a raised hand.

"Don't be silly", she smiled at him. "It was years ago, and I kept them for just such a situation". There was no need to say anything else. House was smart enough to judge the clothes' significance for himself. Still, he stood in the doorway as if on the verge of speaking. "Go!", she shooed him off with a wave of her hand. "Don't make me swat you with my broomstick". At this, the man finally turned away, and within a few moments she could hear the shower from the bathroom in the hallway.

Cameron rinsed the glasses and went into her bedroom and to the large dresser which rested against a wall. With deliberate care she opened the bottom drawer and removed a selection of clothes. Then she picked out a fresh towel and toothbrush from the cupboard. Once she had what she needed, she padded out to the hallway and quietly entered the bathroom, whose door had been left ajar, depositing the items on the little stool by the entrance. House, humming a tune to himself behind the curtain, was unaware of her presence. The brunette stood listening for a second or two. Led Zeppelin – Stairway to Heaven. _Classic_ , she smiled to herself, exiting stealthily.

Cameron returned to the kitchen and gathered up the takeout menus she kept in a box by the kettle. House had cooked them a meal last week but after their run she didn't fancy emulating him, not least because her own culinary skills, though adequate, were not particularly impressive. The way to a man's heart may indeed be through his stomach, but that route wasn't open to _her_.

The woman did a cursory wipe of the surfaces as she waited for House to finish. He had begun to apologise for referencing her husband, but the fact was she had barely thought about it. The man had been her first love and for that reason would always hold a place in her heart, but offering his clothes to House had seemed an entirely natural thing to do. She didn't know what, if anything, this signified. It could be nothing. It could be everything.

Suddenly she felt arms around her, and House's voice in her ear. "Hey", he whispered, nuzzling her neck.

"Hey back". Cameron rubbed his encircling arms with her hands. The embrace, and the feeling of warmth it invariably generated, was becoming increasingly familiar.

"Listen", he said, turning her to face him. His hair was still damp, and she could smell the mint of the mouthwash. His eyes, for once, were serious. "I didn't mean to bring up your husband".

She smiled and brought a thumb up to brush his cheek. "You didn't. I was the one who mentioned where the clothes came from".

The nephrologist shook his head. "What I mean is, I'm not looking to replace him. However long this lasts, I'll be myself; we'll be ourselves. And we can see where that takes us, if you want?".

The immunologist tilted her head. "That sounds good to me. Anyway, you're both very different. I couldn't even begin to compare you".

House nodded. "Fair enough. But if you ever wanted to, y'know, talk about him or…that time, I'd be happy to do so". He thought back to the day he'd found her crying in the lab. She'd been damaged; she was _still_ damaged. If talking it through helped her repair herself, then it was something he would do without a second thought.

Cameron poked him in the chest. "Huh. The last time we discussed psychology and deep thoughts was during our date at Café Spoleto. You weren't particularly keen then, if I recall".

House stuck his tongue out. "Well, the situation has changed. We've had some mind-blowing sex, for one".

She laughed. "No disagreement there. Well, maybe I'll take you up on that offer at some point. But now I need to use the shower. I hope you haven't contaminated my sponge with guy cooties".

"Nope. I was disturbingly respectful of your bathing apparatus. Big fan of the periodic table shower curtain, by the way. Kudos".

She patted his cheek affectionately and moved away. "Thanks. Make yourself useful and pick out what you want for dinner. I'll order once I'm dressed. There's beer in the fridge". With that, Cameron wandered out of the kitchen, ignoring House's parting suggestion that she not bother with clothes at all. The diagnostician picked up a menu and gave it a quick glance while he ambled over to get himself a beer. Nothing he read grabbed his eye so instead he decided to explore the living room as he drank.

Although he had technically visited Cameron's apartment several times, it had only ever been to pick her up and the visits had been necessarily fleeting. He could remember the first time he had called on her, just a couple of days after Vogler's departure. When she had opened the door, he'd attempted to sneak a peek over her shoulder, but she'd pulled the door to, blocking his view. It wasn't unwelcome though, since it had focused his gaze on her body. _Silver linings_. If someone had told him then that they would be in a relationship, he wouldn't have believed it. But then, he wouldn't have believed getting shot either. Not for the first time in the last few months, he briefly reflected on how times had changed.

House made his way over to the bookcase leaning against the far wall. This, and what it contained, was the main feature of the room. Aside from the large bookcase in front of which he now stood, there were various free-standing shelves attached to the walls. All of them were crammed with reading material. On the bottom shelf were her hefty medical reference volumes – he skimmed over these as uninteresting, preferring to scan the spines of others. There appeared to be a wide range of novels. No particular author stood out, though from their titles many of them seemed to be romantically themed. _Not surprising_. A few photographs adorned the walls.

He was about to turn away until the books on the shelf above the pale blue cushioned chair caught his eye. He took down the nearest bookmarked and opened the page. Egyptian jewelcrafting techniques. Cameron's reading habits were perhaps not quite so straightforward after all. The woman herself found House sitting on the sofa leafing through several more similarly titled books. "Have you decided what to order? I'm starving", she said, running a hand through her hair.

"I didn't know you liked ancient Egypt", he answered.

The brunette smiled. "You found them then".

"Since when do you like Egypt?", he asked.

She picked up the discarded menus and flicked through them. "I think you've already figured out when".

House shut what he'd been reading and walked over to stand before the other, causing her to look up. "The case last year…", he began, thinking.

"Go on". Again, she smiled, now focused on House.

"The couple who seemed happily married. You were convinced of it; I wasn't. We bet".

"Getting warm…", she murmured, kissing his cheek.

"We used chelation therapy with dimercaprol. Gold poisoning of the husband by the wife. I won the bet", he finished, now looking down into her eyes.

"You thought you'd proved that all marriage was doomed to failure". The brunette kissed his other cheek before lacing her hands loosely behind his neck, content to let his brain run its race.

"I don't care about that. We found the woman in the bathroom attempting to clean her hands, which had been stained purple from the stannous chloride. I only knew this from my time in Egypt, which I told her…". The nephrologist's expression was unfocused as he recalled the memory.

"Mmm. You said you used to dig for mummies when you were a boy because there was nothing else to do".

House's attention returned, a smirk playing around his mouth. "You got those...tomes after that case".

"Well, more specifically, I got them after what _you_ said". As if to emphasise her point, the brunette placed a finger to his lips.

"Why?", he asked.

Cameron chuckled at this. House's face betrayed the same intense curiosity as when she had admitted desiring to travel across London with him. For all his genius insight, he still remained adorably in the dark when it came to matters of the heart. The immunologist had yet to decide why this was so. Perhaps because such things were not academic problems but emotional ones, and therefore harder to reduce to reason. Or maybe he simply wasn't used to a woman actually seeking a significant connection with him. Either way, it helped ground the fantasy. So often in differentials, House could seem simply more intelligent, more intuitive than anyone else. In _life_ , however, Cameron was beginning to appreciate that she had her own contribution to make; and it made her appreciate him even more. "I was curious", she answered.

"Huh". The diagnostician tilted his head a little, as if struck by a sudden thought.

"Do you think that's weird of me?", she wondered.

"No. I think it's pretty touching". House kissed her nose. "Was your research worthwhile?".

"More or less. Though I've moved on to the Romans now".

"Am I to blame for that as well?", he grinned.

"Nah. Once you'd set me on the path it was an inevitable consequence, unfortunately". Cameron angled her lips towards his.

"I can think of worse things. I'd love to discuss history with you", he whispered, dipping downwards to initiate a kiss.

But Cameron once more placed a finger on his lips. "Easy there, mister. Have you cleaned your teeth? I like you a lot, but not enough to sample your throw-up". She knew already that he had, but he'd put her in a playful mood.

House raised an eyebrow as he answered. "No. No, I have not. And I'm gonna _engulf_ you anyway". Cameron released a squeal and attempted to free herself, turning her head side to side, her hair whipping his face. But he was too strong, and before long their lips met in a hungry kiss, both enjoying the smell and feel of the other. "We should make out after showering more often", he murmured into her mouth.

"We should", Cameron agreed, nibbling his lip. "Or we could make out _in_ the shower".

"Good thinking. I always knew you were a smart egg", replied House, tapping her forehead with his thumb.

"Come on", she said, breaking away finally. "Let's order some food, you can tell me the origin of your interest in cricket, and we can eat while watching _Airplane!_ ". The brunette pulled the box of menus towards them and handed a couple over.

"And after that?", House asked as he perused the leaflets.

"After that you can claim your dessert", she winked at him.

The man licked his lips. "Yummy". 


	51. Plenty of fish in the sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Hameron in this. Please don't sue me. Chase's pick-up line is adapted from the season two episode 'All In'.

Elsewhere in Princeton, Chase and Foreman were drinking in a bar and discussing the merits of the two women at the counter who were, as yet, unaware of their existence. The diagnosticians had already been at it for an hour or so and were consequently a little worse for wear. "Do you think they're lawyers? I think they're lawyers". Chase had loosened his tie and rolled up his shirtsleeves.

Foreman scoffed but took a long draught of his beer while he appraised their targets. "You can't tell someone's profession from how they're dressed".

"You absolutely can. Lawyers always have really expensive clothes and excellent posture. Y'know, 'cos they've got to be in court all day and it pays to look the part".

"I dunno if that's what lawyers do, though. I bet most of their time is spent in an office building a case", Foreman replied.

"Nah, trust me. Court. I know all about it". Chase tapped his nose then pointed at the women. "Those ladies are lawyers. We should go over and ask them".

The neurologist shrugged. "I sorta just wanted to chat and stuff. Can't be bothered trying to make nice with complete randoms tonight. Besides, I'm still thinking about taking things more serious with Katie".

The Australian thought about it. "Fine. We can chat for a bit, but if those chicks are still here in…", he glanced at his watch, "…thirty minutes, I'm going over there, Katie or no Katie. Hey, does she try and sell you medication after you do it?". Chase made a graphic gesture.

Foreman rolled his eyes. "I've told her that House isn't interested in sourcing from Parker-Wright, so it's pretty chill at the moment".

"Smart. Lay it all out there. That way, you both know what you want". The intensivist's eyes became unfocused for a few seconds, but Foreman couldn't decide if it was the drink or some other deeper feeling. Before he could enquire, though, Chase continued: "D'you think we should've invited Cameron out tonight? I feel like we haven't hung out just us three for a while".

Foreman took a sip of his drink as he considered his response. Since Cameron had revealed to him her relationship with House, he'd kept his counsel, willing to let the woman herself decide when to go public. Ultimately, of course, it was none of his business. On the other hand, however, he knew that the longer Chase was kept in the dark, the greater the risk of someone getting hurt. The Australian had confessed to holding strong feelings for the immunologist just two months ago. As Foreman had reflected then, such feelings didn't disappear overnight. And his friend's current train of thought suggested that the brunette was on his mind once again. "I suppose we could've asked her", he replied carefully. "But she seemed pretty involved in her discussion with House".

"True. She seems to spend a fair bit of time with him, don't you think?". Chase swilled the dregs in his glass.

The neurologist shrugged. "Sure, but she pretty much does all the departmental paperwork, not to mention House's personal mail".

Chase smirked. "Yeah, yeah. She has the hots for him, man. You don't need to beat around the bush. I'm a big boy".

"You want another round?", Foreman asked, getting out of his seat.

"Go on then. It's Friday, so why not? I'll take one of the beers on tap, cheers". While he waited for his colleague to return with the drinks, Chase drummed his fingers on the table. Wilson had advised him recently to ask Cameron directly what her relationship status was. The problem with this course of action was that he didn't really want to do so, for fear of what she might say. Although he was pretty much resigned to the fact that the brunette and their boss were now an item, and even though he had told himself he was willing to play the long game, he was afraid of how hearing the truth would make him react. He was so unused to feeling this way about a woman. That was the concerning thing. The whole thing was fucked up.

His friend returned and slid across the drink. They both clinked glasses. "You're not gonna believe this, but I think you're right about those women being lawyers. They were discussing a legal case, at least".

The Australian tapped the side of his head. "Told ya. I've got a sense for these things. Are you still against us going over there? I reckon we'd both be in with a shot, fair dinkum. The blonde was eyeing you up when you went to the bathroom".

"I thought _you'd_ fancy the blonde, to be honest", observed Foreman, taking a sip of his fresh drink.

"Nah. I'd want the redhead, if we were picking. I've had enough of blondes for the time being, what with Mathilde and all. Are we doing it or what?". Chase rotated his beer on the coaster in irritation. He was yearning for a distraction, and a bar fling was just the ticket.

Foreman rolled his eyes but inclined his head in assent. "Fine. How'd you wanna play it?".

"Just let me do the talking initially and you can jump in when you see fit". The intensivist got up from his seat, shrugged into his jacket, and picked up his beer.

"What makes you think you're a better initiator than me?". Foreman followed suit and fell into step beside his friend.

"It's the accent, mate. American chicks love it", he replied, shrugging apologetically.

* * *

"So were you in one of those cages?", asked the redhead.

"No. No, no. Those things are for tourists", Chase answered, running a hand through his hair.

"You were in the water with a great white…". The woman wasn't convinced.

The intensivist leant in conspiratorially. "Sure. It's no big deal. You just have to keep an eye on them. Generally they prefer fish to humans, but if they get too close, punch 'em in the nose and send 'em on their way".

"I don't believe you!", she replied, placing a hand on his arm.

Chase held his hands up. "Fine. You got me. I can't shape up to your lawyer interrogation skills, Anna. They really do prefer fish, though. _That_ part was true".

"You are mean", she retorted, smiling nevertheless.

"Sorry", he grinned. The two sipped their drinks for a moment, glancing over to their companions, who had moved a little further along the bar. "Hey, this might be weird seeing as we just met, but I'd like a second opinion on something, if you wouldn't mind".

"I normally bill for this kind of thing, but I like you so go ahead". Anna took another sip as she looked at the other over the rim of her glass.

"What's your view on attraction? Like, do you think that there's one person for each of us out there or do you think it's completely random?". Chase kept his gaze levelled at his companion. It was a serious question and he was genuinely interested in the answer. As he had told Cameron in the cafeteria a while back, his views on soulmates had changed recently. It never hurt to ask for a consult, even if he was almost positive that he wouldn't see this woman again.

Anna's eyes widened slightly at this, but she was content to play along with this undeniably gorgeous man. "I go back and forth on that issue, to tell the truth. Sometimes I think soulmates are an immature notion. But then I feel that, if you meet the right person, anything's possible".

Chase nodded. "Yeah, that's the thing. How do you know if you've met the right person?".

"I'd think that you would just _know_ , y'know? I mean, it's hard for me to say because I'm still looking. But I'd like to think that you'd understand pretty quick if the person was right for you or not". Anna's hand hadn't left Chase's shirtsleeve.

"Hmm. You might be right there", he replied. The answer had made him thoughtful. Maybe Cameron _was_ the one. The issue was that she had shown herself to be distinctly uninterested in him so far. The Australian was convinced this had more to do with House's almost gravitational hold over her rather than any particular failings on his own part. Chase knew himself to be a decent man, knew that, if given the chance, he would treat Cameron as she deserved to be treated. House couldn't offer her that. It wasn't in his nature. The question was, Chase recognised, how long he would have to wait. And whether he was _willing_ to wait. Even feelings of love had to fade in the end. Nothing was permanent, and there were plenty of fish in the sea.

"What about yourself? Are you still looking, huh?", asked the woman, who had noticed the far-off glaze in her companion's eyes.

Rather than reply directly, the intensivist tilted his head mischievously, brought back to earth. Whatever his feelings about Cameron, whether he needed to get over her or not; whether he even wanted to get over her, it didn't mean he couldn't have some fun in the meantime. "Why, are you volunteering for the job, Anna?".

She laughed. "Well, how about you buy me another drink first and we'll see how the evening develops?".

"That sounds like a fair plan", replied Chase as he signalled the bartender. "Same again?".


	52. Movie night

In the end, House and Cameron had decided on Italian food. The former was currently engaged in dividing up the pizza, which had come free with the pasta dishes, between them. The brunette, however, was not impressed. "It's funny how all the meat seems to have mysteriously materialised on your slices, huh?". She began to pick off a few pieces and redistribute them more evenly. "There we go. I think this is a fairer representation".

House rolled his eyes as he began to shovel spaghetti carbonara onto his plate. "Ugh, goddam communist. It's people like you who drag America down. When I'm president, you and your kind will be forcibly re-educated".

Cameron went to the fridge and retrieved a couple more beers. "Fighting words from a man who just lost a race and a hundred dollars".

"I let you win. If you don't realise that then I'm afraid I can't help you". The pair moved over to the sofa and sank into it.

Cameron pretended to swoon as she handed over a beer. "My hero! Cheers". The two clinked drinks and took a glug. House didn't mention it, but it was a major positive in his book that the immunologist had a well-stocked alcohol supply. He'd spotted plenty of beer and a selection of wines in a rack on the wall. The only thing missing was a liquor section but that was something they could work on together. If this relationship had any chance of succeeding, he was going to have to convert her to whiskey. Ideally scotch. "So…", she began, "…cricket?".

House took an enormous mouthful of pasta which he chewed thoughtfully. "Not so fast. You tell me one of your hobbies first. I still don't know much about you and I don't like it".

The other tilted her head slightly. "Alright. Let's see…you already know that I run, read and play clarinet".

House looked up from a pizza slice. "Oh, that reminds me. I'd still like to play together at some point".

"Fine. Other than that, I like typical things. Going to the movies and-".

The nephrologist held up a hand, preventing more. "Whoa, hey, I said only _one_ hobby. Don't deprive me of the opportunity to find out more in my own time". Cameron sighed good-naturedly at this – he'd admitted several weeks ago, in the office before their first date, that he was looking forward to discovering what was in her brain. For House, everything, even as simple a thing as a hobby, was a puzzle to be unravelled. This aspect of his personality was what intrigued her the most. It was also the one aspect of their relationship that needed careful management, because she feared what would happen if, one day, there were no more questions. She hated harbouring such insecurity, but it couldn't be helped. House was unique, but _she_ wasn't.

"What kind of movies do you like then?", he asked, seemingly oblivious to the turning of her mind.

"I like a lot, though I'm a sucker for a romantic comedy", she admitted, taking another mouthful of food.

"Star Wars?".

"Never seen it".

House looked at her seriously for a few seconds, then grinned, before returning to his plate. "Good one. You're a joker and it's a massive turn on, Camster".

"I'm being serious. I've never seen Star Wars", Cameron replied, a smile playing on her lips at House's utter confusion.

Eventually, he nodded in appreciation. "You mean you've not seen the remakes. Wise. You haven't missed much".

Cameron raised her eyebrows. "They remade the films? Why on earth would they do that? I feel like needless tampering is unnecessary".

The diagnostician was so perturbed that he placed his plate on the coffee table and gave the woman next to him his full focus. "Wait. You've not seen even the original trilogy?".

The brunette noticed the other's movement, but it didn't stop her chewing her lasagne for a few moments before replying in a deliberately flippant tone. "No, sir. I mean, I like _stars_ as much as the next girl, but _wars_? Bleh. Diplomacy is the way forwards, not fighting". At this, House's mouth opened and closed a couple of times but no words came out; then he stroked his cheek, as if in the middle of a particularly challenging differential diagnosis; then he folded his arms tightly across his chest, all the while being observed by an amused Cameron, who tilted her head. "Are you going to be sick again?".

The man ruffled his slightly greying hair. "Sick? I'm not feeling sick. I'm feeling _appalled_ that you've not seen Star Wars. _Appalled_ , Dr. Cameron. I thought you said you liked movies".

She continued munching pasta as provocatively as possible. "What's the big deal? It's just a film".

" _Just a film_?! Right, tomorrow we're watching the whole trilogy". House folded his arms and set his jaw.

"Aww, really? I was kinda hoping we could just spend all day having sex like last Saturday". The brunette stretched her arms above her head in such a way that the t-shirt she had slipped on after the shower rode up, exposing her taught stomach to his view. The man's gaze flickered but he nevertheless maintained eye contact and a stern expression. "Wow, you're good", she commented. "That's some zen-like focus. You must really like Star Wars".

"I take education very seriously indeed. And right now your film education needs some work. We can have sex whenever". House picked up his plate and resumed eating.

"I think my television knowledge is also somewhat lacking, to be honest. Maybe you'll need to, ah, _work_ on that as well", retorted the immunologist, throwing him a suggestive wink.

House stifled a smile and took a swig of beer to hide it. "Yeah, but that's gonna be a long-term job. We'll start with a few films and build up from there. By this time next year, you should be less of an embarrassment to me in the screen department".

Cameron had picked up the remote control and was in the process of searching for _Airplane!_ on Netflix. But his words caused her to look around sharply. "You, umm, plan on us being together in a year's time?". Her heart beat faster. House had uttered the comment off-hand, but that made it all the more significant.

House placed his beer bottle carefully on the coffee table before meeting her eyes. "Well, I don't know. I mean, would you, er, want to be?".

"I…think I would, yes". The immunologist was being cautious. There was no need to apply undue pressure. She had always been in this for the long haul, willing to afford him the time he needed, allowing him the initiative in dictating the terms of their romantic engagement. More than this, though, despite the strength of her own feelings, it went against her nature to confess her undying love in her lounge clothes while eating pasta. Still, she couldn't refrain from asking: "What about you?".

"There's still a lot we don't know about each other, but…I could be open to the possibility, yeah", he smiled, before continuing: "Shall we get cracking? There are other things I'd like to do tonight, and I ain't getting any younger". House finished off his food, placed his empty plate on the coffee table, and sat back into the couch, stretching his arms out behind the other so that the fingers of his left hand tangled in her hair, brushing against the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck.

Cameron released a soft purr of satisfaction, pleased with his response and the movement of his hand. The nephrologist's nimble fingers were an asset both inside and outside the hospital. Having located the film, she snuggled up and pressed play. "Are you gonna fall asleep during this?", she asked as the opening logos flashed across the screen.

"It's too early to say", House grunted. "I love the movie, but I've exercised, had a shower, eaten some food, drank some beer and it's like…", he glanced at the clock on the wall, "…8 p.m. That's basically bedtime in the penthouse at Greg Towers. Plus, you're practically a hot water bottle at this point".

The woman pretended to move away. "Would you like me to sit in the chair instead? Leave this sofa to you?".

But House pulled her closer and kissed her hair, breathing in the characteristic pineapple scent. "Where are you going? I like hot water bottles". Cameron made no reply, allowing herself to lean fully into his body, enjoying the feel of his arm around her shoulders. Just a couple of months ago she'd reflected in this very room how far away the possibility of being with House seemed. No longer. She still didn't know what had caused his sudden receptiveness to her advances. _Perhaps near death had changed him somehow?_ It was a question she was afraid to ask, in case it caused him – or her – distress. The nightmares hadn't occurred for some time, but there was no need to risk a relapse.

The pair watched the film in silence for a good thirty or forty minutes, both laughing out loud at different points. The nephrologist took a simple delight in hearing, and feeling, the sound of Cameron's laugh. Though she often smiled and chuckled, her unguarded laugh was a rarity, and it made him inexplicably warm whenever it emerged. He'd noticed this the night they'd first kissed in his office; it sounded deep and genuine, and though he was unable to see from his current position, he knew that her white teeth would be visible behind her lips; green eyes twinkling, framed by the hair that lay strewn across his chest. These thoughts caused an erotic sense to shimmer through his system. House exhaled slowly, trying to focus on a film he'd not seen for years. But the next time she laughed, he reached across and hit pause. "OK, you need to stop that".

The man's tone caused Cameron to look up. "Stop what?".

"Laughing", he answered, meeting her inquisitive gaze with his own. "It's turning me on, and I need you to stop it because it's ruining film night for me".

"My laugh turns you on?", she asked, surprised.

House rolled his eyes. "Yes, and I'd like you to stop. You're making it very difficult to focus on the dialogue".

"I mean, this sounds like a you problem, to be honest". Cameron's face was alight with amusement, enhanced all the more by the other's apparent seriousness.

"I'm not joking. I want to watch this movie and thoughts of you are getting in the way. Kindly refrain from making any noise".

The brunette patted his chest. "Alright, House, you complete weirdo. I'm…sorry for exciting you? I'll be quiet as a church mouse. I give you my word as a girl scout of America, and as an avid consumer of Chicago pizza. Satisfied?".

House raised an eyebrow. "I feel like you're being facetious, but I'll take it".

Cameron snuggled up once more. "'Facetious' is a good one".

Despite himself, the nephrologist grinned. "I know, right? I don't get to use it often, unfortunately".

"Which is odd, because you're probably the most facetious man I know". Cameron reached over and entwined her fingers in his.

"I try". With this, they resumed the film, Cameron being sure to keep her mirth under control. But House's admission had given her an idea. If he wasn't going to allow her to enjoy the film as she wanted, then it was only fair that she return the favour. After about ten minutes, she allowed her spare hand to drift down to his thigh. The slacks she had given him to wear were thin, though he showed no indication that he was aware of the movement. She waited a few moments before trailing upwards. This did elicit a growl. "Can't you wait until the end of the film?".

"No", she whispered, "I can't".

House sighed but did nothing as she edged along his inner thigh. She took his hand, which was resting loosely across her shoulders, and slipped it down to her waist, to the bare skin between the hem of her grey pants and that of the t-shirt. "I'm _trying_ to watch this", he muttered. Nevertheless, he began to draw little circles with his fingertips, dipping just under the waistband every now and then.

"You can multitask". The immunologist, who had given up all pretence, turned her head to the side and planted feather-light kisses on his cheek. House remained looking forwards stubbornly, refusing to reply, and his fingers stilled. Cameron's however, continued until they reached their destination. "Hmm", she breathed into his ear, "how much of this are you able to take, House?".

"I told you a while ago. My will is iron, more so when TV is on the line". Still, he kept his eyes on the screen.

"That's fine. I like a challenge", she replied, tracing his shape through the cotton while gently biting his earlobe. She hadn't bothered giving him underwear to change into since these clothes were only ever going to be worn for a couple of hours. House's breathing was regular, despite Cameron's attentions. The woman suppressed a smirk. _Time to raise the stakes_. She brushed her lips once again to his stubble, while also using a hand to cover his, which had remained at her waist. Then, she slowly pushed his hand southwards, underneath the hem of her slacks.

House's gaze flickered. If he'd glanced down, he would have been able to see the ripple in Cameron's pants. As it was, he could feel the warm smoothness of her skin under his fingertips. Though his eyes never left the screen, his attention had been well and truly diverted. She guided him towards her groin, unable to prevent her breathing from shallowing out. "How are you feeling? Excited yet?", she asked, spreading her legs a little to create more space.

"No", he replied in a low voice.

"Do you mind if I consult on that? With patients, it's safer not to take them at their word", Cameron breathed, dipping her other hand under the waist of his pants and grasping him directly. "What have we here? You just told me a barefaced lie, Dr. House. I ought to punish you, but I've been thinking about this all week". She began to caress him with slow strokes, trying to force his attention away from the television, though the clothes were making it tricky.

"You've been thinking about _Airplane!_ all week?". House was determined to hold on until the end credits. Still he refused to look at the other.

"Not quite. More like…this". The brunette started to touch herself with House's fingers.

"Fuck", he growled, "you're already wet…". Cameron had remained in close throughout all this, and he could feel her hot breath against his cheek.

"I've been wet for the last twenty minutes, Gregory", she replied, releasing soft murmurs of pleasure.

The use of his first name, combined with Cameron's attentions was the final straw. House's head snapped to the side, and his blue eyes were dark. He withdrew his hand and used it to tilt her face upwards, intentionally drawing the woman's own moisture across her skin. "You are…impossible, Dr. Cameron".

The immunologist swallowed. "Would you have me any other way, Dr. House?".

Suddenly, House laughed. "Absolutely not", he replied, kissing her tenderly. "I'm hungry".

Now it was Cameron's turn to laugh. "We ate like an hour and a half ago".

House raised an eyebrow before springing to his feet and taking her by the hand. "Always so literal…".

"Oh, I see what you did there", Cameron grinned and allowed him to lead her to the bedroom, crouching down to turn the television off as they walked past it. Dessert awaited.


	53. Seduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, this chapter contains a graphic sexual act.

"The bedroom's through there. I just need to take out my contact lenses". Cameron directed House to a door off the hallway before disappearing into the bathroom.

The diagnostician ambled down the corridor, noting the prints and pictures that decorated the walls. There was a large photograph of a cityscape which he immediately recognised as San Francisco; and another was the ubiquitous image of a bunch of skyscraper workmen sitting on an iron girder eating lunch far above the hustle and bustle. Cameron's home felt warmer than his own, more cared for. The feeling intensified as he entered her bedroom, looking around with frank curiosity. Light blue wallpaper complemented the off-white carpet and curtains, and there was a heavy wooden wardrobe and dresser suite against one of the walls. Against another a large bookcase rested, reaching almost to the ceiling, similar to his own room. Unlike his, yet more photographs lined the shelves.

The bed was neatly made, and the covers sported little flowers of red, white and green. The ensemble was finished by a small bedside table upon which rested a reading lamp and an alarm clock. House wandered over to the large window and glanced down into the street. The thick glass kept out the Friday noise as he turned back to survey the scene. Apart from the duvet, nothing about the room was overtly feminine; and yet it obviously belonged to a woman. The whole arrangement suggested a simple elegance, much like its owner. The nephrologist smiled and sat on the edge of the bed, testing the feel. Satisfied, he lay back, closing his eyes for a moment.

"First impressions?", Cameron asked, walking through the door and closing it.

House sat up and turned on the bedside lamp. "I don't like that picture of the workmen eating lunch out there. Too obvious. Other than that, it's OK".

The woman tilted her head and shut off the main light. "I'll take that as approval, coming from you". She went over to lean against the windowsill before fixing her gaze on the other, content at the moment just to observe.

House rose to his feet and nodded. "It's a good space. I can definitely imagine having sex with you in here".

Cameron laughed and adjusted the glasses on her nose. "Hmm, well, there's no need to imagine any more".

"True enough", the nephrologist replied, walking over to lean next to her. "And here's another truth. I think you look _really_ sexy in glasses".

"No way. I think they're pretty annoying". The brunette rested her head against his shoulder. The pair fell silent for a couple of minutes, the sound of their breathing the only sign of life. "So, my laugh and glasses turn you on. That's…an unusual combination".

"And your brain. And your hair".

She patted his knee. "Thanks, but you don't need to give me compliments, you know".

"Isn't that what boyfriends are meant to do?". House rubbed her back gently.

"Well, sure, but _you_ don't need to. What I mean is, I'm not expecting you to be a normal boyfriend. I just want you to be you. Frankly, even the term 'boyfriend' sounds weird". Cameron reached across and, as she had done while they watched _Airplane!_ , entwined their fingers.

Again, House nodded. "I agree with you there. I don't like 'boyfriend' either. I dunno, I quite like complimenting you, to be honest. Makes a nice change".

Cameron got up and stood between the other's legs, pouting slightly, and lacing her arms around his neck. "OK, as long as you're comfortable. It's just that the last time I asked you what you thought of me in Café Spoleto, it didn't go so well".

House placed his hands at her waist. "You know why I said what I said. I thought I knew who you were. I realise now that I was wrong".

"And you were scared of what could happen between us, so you shot me down", she added, looking into his eyes.

"Guilty", he replied, kissing her. "Anyway, the problem was never the physical stuff. I've told you that. The _really_ cool thing is that I like you as a person now, too". And this was the most interesting development: Cameron was genuinely likeable. Already he had discovered a little bit more of what made her tick, and there was still a lot else to find out. The possibility excited him. More than this, though, House still believed she, like him, was damaged in some way. Whether or not he could help heal her was an open question, but he still wanted to try, when the time came, _if_ it came.

"I also like you as a person. And I think you're incredibly sexy". Cameron's voice had dropped to a husky murmur and her hands were now cupping his face. "But before we get down to business, Dr. House, you are going to tell me why you like cricket, because I've wanted to know for weeks".

House tilted his head. "Alright, but you're going to think it's ridiculous".

"Try me".

"There was a girl in college…", he began, eyes unfocused as he recalled the memory.

"Michigan?", Cameron asked. Cuddy had told her at the bar that they had met in the university bookshop.

"Nah, John Hopkins. I went to Michigan after I got suspended from JH. Anyway this girl was English and a real babe, and I overheard her telling her friends that her first love was a semi-professional cricketer in England. So I decided to acquaint myself with the game and, er, use it as a way in. Maybe get myself some rebound sex". House's grin was so wide that Cameron started smiling too. How like House to use his thirst for knowledge as a means of seducing women.

"Did it work?".

"Yep. It was a pretty wild long weekend. I didn't see anyone for several days. Major dehydration and some pretty severe chafing. Afterwards I just kinda stuck with it, and now it's one of my favourite sports". House finished his tale and tucked a strand of hair behind Cameron's ear. "But it was just sex. She was sinfully boring outside the bedroom, even with the accent".

The immunologist chuckled, happy that her own insight into House had been proved correct. This was exactly why she hadn't attempted to push him into initiating a carnal relationship earlier, because, for him, sex was purely physical. It needn't mean anything. What she wanted was a significant connection. Everything else was simply an added bonus. "How would you seduce me, then?", she asked playfully, scratching the nape of his neck.

"I wouldn't use such cheap tricks on you, Cameron. Would you really like to know?".

"Yes", she answered immediately.

House exhaled slowly and his blue eyes flashed. "Firstly, I'd tell you the truth. That I think about you all the time, even during a case, even when I'm talking with Wilson; that I believe you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen; that I wish we'd got together sooner, and that I'm really thankful you didn't give up when I rejected you…that sort of thing". His voice was light, almost flippant, but the gravity of his words caused Cameron's breath to catch in her throat and her heart to race. Nevertheless, she did nothing except run her hands down his chest, waiting for him to continue.

"Then after all that, I suppose I'd use a few physical gestures…", House had been leaning against the windowsill for the last fifteen minutes, but now he drew himself up to his full height and allowed his gaze to wander down the other's body, taking in the outline of her breasts under the cotton, the shape of her arms, the pale perfection of her throat, before finally meeting her green eyes. When he spoke, the voice that emerged was deeper. "I think I'd probably run a hand through your hair…", House did so, "…and the other I'd use to stroke your cheek, like this". Cameron at once leant into his hand and murmured something incomprehensible. Already her skin felt hot to the touch. She had learnt last week that House was at his sexiest when he was deadly serious, when the layers of dissimulation and irony had been stripped away.

"I wouldn't kiss you immediately, though", House resumed, still maintaining eye contact. "I'd probably brush my lips to your nose, which you know I love, then trail round to your ear, then your forehead, only making the lightest contact…", again, the diagnostician acted out his words, "…I'd let you feel my stubble against your cheek, and I'd breath in your scent…". The man took a deep breath against her neck, before continuing: "…and I'd probably trail a fingertip down your throat, like this…". Cameron released a whimper and her hands gripped the other by the waist, "…then I'd whisper that I've been thinking all week about fucking you in your bed…and after that, I guess, I'd kiss you like you deserve to be kissed". House, for once, did not carry out his words.

Instead, he drew back slightly, a smile dancing on his lips. "Something like that, just off the top of my head. I'd have to think about it-". Before he could utter another word, Cameron crushed her lips to his, invading his mouth with her tongue, running her hands frantically through his hair and under the t-shirt, digging her nails into his skin. House at once picked her up and carried her to the bed. "Would it…have worked?", he asked between each frenzied kiss.

"No. Now fuck me, please", she breathed.

"No", he echoed. "I'm eating you first".

"God…", Cameron muttered, kissing him even as he lowered her gently to the bed.

"Take off your t-shirt; leave the glasses on", growled House, who was kneeling between her legs. The woman swallowed at his tone but nevertheless did as instructed, tossing it to the side. She automatically started to shimmy out of her pants, but House stopped her, even pulling them back up: "Not yet. Just the top for now…and pass me two of those pillows". Cameron looked at him inquiringly but said nothing, handing them over. "Which one of these is yours and which one is mine?", he asked. Following her gestures, he placed hers to the side for later use; his own, he placed under her butt. "Lie back". His voice was matter-of-fact, as if addressing a patient in an examination room. Cameron's heart thudded in her ears as she relaxed into the sheets, anticipation building.

Once he was satisfied, House held himself in position over the other, looking into her eyes. "Hi", he grinned.

"Hello", she replied, tugging his ear affectionately.

The diagnostician kissed her hard, running a hand down her body, over her breasts. "Bye, then", he winked. With a final kiss of her nose, his lips trailed slowly downwards, following the path of his hand moments before. The smell and taste of her coconut shower gel filled his senses; he'd used it himself just two hours prior. _Yummy_. As he had done last week, House circled the well of her navel with his tongue for a few seconds. Cameron's breathing quickened imperceptibly.

House continued southwards but found his progress blocked by the woman's thin slacks. Rather than remove them, he placed both hands on her hips and without any warning licked in one continuous movement through the cotton. The immunologist, who had been watching his progress, exhaled and brought a hand down to rest in his hair. Once more, he repeated the motion, using a little more pressure; once more, Cameron sighed softly, feeling the anticipation wash through her. "Are you ready?", he asked, copying his own words from last weekend.

"Yes", she whispered, propping up on her elbows.

"Good". Years had passed since he had tasted a woman – that was one thing he could never do with hookers, and Stacey hadn't liked it either. House hooked his thumbs in the waistband and drew the pants down her legs once she had lifted up a little from the bed. He tossed the clothes to the side, leaving Cameron lying naked before his eyes, her pale skin reflecting the soft lamplight. The nephrologist drank in the sight of her form and his blue eyes barely flickered.

The woman swallowed. "When you look at me like that, it's like…", she drifted off, unsure.

House looked up. "It's like what?".

Cameron shook her head. "Nothing. It's stupid. Embarrassing". Suddenly aware of how exposed she was, her hands made to cover herself, and her face blushed.

But the other, who was still kneeling between her legs, reached out and took her hands in his. He kissed her fingers one by one. "What did we agree last week? What was my one condition?".

"That we be honest…that we not be embarrassed", she replied.

House looked directly into Cameron's eyes as he spoke. "It just you and I, Cameron. There's no one else. I want to be here, with you, right now, doing this. Embarrassment has no place. OK?".

"OK", she smiled, brushing his cheek before allowing her hands to fall to the side.

"Excellent. You were saying?".

"Nothing. It doesn't matter". Even with his comforting words, the statement that had come to mind seemed so trite she hesitated to reveal it.

House raised an eyebrow. "It matters to me. And I've got all night, so…the choice is yours".

The brunette sighed. "When you look at me like that, I feel as if, in that moment, nothing else in the world interests you…apart from me. And it's…incredibly arousing". As the words left her mouth, she braced for a trademark sarcastic retort.

But instead House shimmied up the bed so that he was face to face with the other. "That's a pretty accurate assessment". He kissed her tenderly, before pulling away. "Just relax. Let me do this for you". At Cameron's nod, the man moved back to the foot of the bed, placing a pillow under his forearms and getting as comfortable as possible. He began to kiss from her left knee, along the inside of her thigh, loving how smooth she felt against his lips, trailing upwards. While switching to the other leg, he let his warm breath brush against her groin, noting that she was already wet. Cameron's breath caught in her throat, but she said nothing as House repeated his gentle kisses, drawing it out as long as possible.

The nephrologist moistened his lips for a moment or two, adjusting his prone position on the bed. Then, with deliberate slowness, he licked her once, from bottom to top, feeling her shape beneath his tongue. As he brushed over her clit, he reduced the pressure so that it was feather-light, before pressing the tip of his tongue against the area just above and holding still. Cameron shuddered. "You…you've done this before", she whispered, fully aware of the answer.

"Once or twice, yes", he replied, breaking contact to raise an eyebrow.

"Don't stop…", she spoke quickly, twisting her fingers in his hair.

House chuckled. Instead of replying, he licked her again, this time nudging his hand towards her abdomen, stretching her tight, encompassing as much as possible in one movement, before breaking contact completely. He could feel the brunette applying pressure on his head, attempting to draw him back in, but he resisted, unwilling to be rushed. House repeated the movement a number of times, getting into a rhythm. After the end of each stroke he held his tongue flat against her, being careful not to press too hard, nor to favour one particular spot.

As the minutes passed, he could feel Cameron shift underneath but his hands on her legs maintained the position as he mixed in lighter tongue movements at regular intervals intentionally avoiding her clit, delighting in her taste and the sounds of her pleasure, but keeping a close eye on her arousal. When he thought her ready, he applied his tongue directly to her bud and held still for a few seconds, allowing the woman herself to push against him. "Fuck…", she managed, "…you've no idea how…great this…". House said nothing and returned to his licks. After each set, he finished with a tongue press, letting Cameron stimulate herself against his mouth momentarily before resuming control.

Minutes more passed before the diagnostician began to introduce his fingers, squeezing and caressing different parts of her in combination with his simple tongue strokes. On one such movement, he slipped a finger inside her entrance, feeling her pelvic muscles throb in response and Cameron groan above him. He held still inside, licking all around, loving the increase in sexual tension. A straightforward fuck was all well and good, but he'd always enjoyed seeing a woman build-up to climax before his eyes. He used the thumb of his other hand to brush the area just below her entrance, which he knew was clustered with nerve endings. Cameron began to writhe beneath his mouth, and he held her still. "God, House…keep going, please…", she muttered. The hand that wasn't tangled in his hair she used to pinch her nipples.

Feeling Cameron's squirming increase beneath his mouth and hands, House decided to escalate things. "Can I make you come now?".

The brunette glanced down with wide eyes and flared nostrils, detecting her own moisture on his face. "What have you been doing…for the past twenty minutes?", she asked over the rise and fall of her own chest.

"Having fun", he replied with a wink.

The woman exhaled and her head fell back to the pillow. "Fuck…".

Taking this as an affirmative, House deftly inserted a second finger and grazed against her inner ceiling while at the same time pressing flat down from above with his other hand, applying much-needed pressure from two angles. Meanwhile, he began to lap at her clit with his tongue alternating horizontal and vertical strokes, falling into a consistent rhythm. Cameron scrunched his hair with a hand, her sentences fragmenting from the multi-pronged stimulation which continued relentlessly as traffic noise filtered through the window. The alarm clock blinked mutely on the sidetable as it crossed the hour.

"Fuck…I…this feels…", she moaned, pushing up from the bed against his mouth. "House…", she began, before giving up and concentrating on her building climax, tweaking her nipples roughly. Several boyfriends had done this for her before, and it had felt nice, obviously. But this was something else entirely. As a highly skilled doctor, she knew the mechanics of the human orgasm; knew also that, for women at least, it was an especially individual phenomenon. No one female was the same. But it seemed as if House already perceived what she needed, as if he was _designed_ just for her. She could hear his own sighs of arousal mixing with her own, and it made her heart race even faster.

House took his left hand, which had been pressing down, and tucked it under her butt, controlling her involuntary movements. Without breaking contact, he switched the angle of his mouth, using his gums to press against the area above her clit. After some seconds had passed, he began to increase the pressure. Meanwhile, he used a flat, still tongue to push directly against her bud for fifteen seconds at a time, before once again licking aggressively. His fingers continued to push upwards into her inner walls. Cameron's breathing was ragged and when she tried to utter his name, her voice emerged shakily. "House…I'm close…".

The nephrologist could feel his lover push down even harder on his head, her legs tightening around his arms, reducing the space. At this stage, all he could do was try and maintain as consistent a pressure against her clitoral complex as possible. He tried to remain still so that she could use his tongue and gums as a point of resistance and see herself over the edge. He ignored aches in his neck and lips. She tightened against his fingers which bore down heavily on her flesh and, when he glanced up, he noticed how her body had flushed and was glistening with sweat. _Beautiful_.

"House. Fuck…fuck…yesss….", Cameron breathed, as she could feel her climax approaching, locking her legs around the man's shoulders holding him in place. Her body tensed, and her breathing become shallow and uncontrolled. A few seconds later, she felt the rapid and prolonged contractions crash through her body, from core to toes. The feeling was overwhelming and utterly blissful, continuing for what seemed an age but must have been about ten or fifteen seconds. House diverted his gaze upwards, noticing how her eyes were screwed shut and her mouth was open in a frozen groan of delight, how her nipples stood proud on her chest. When it was over, she sank back into the bedsheets, utterly spent, breathing like she'd just finished her second race of the evening.

Only when he sensed the convulsions ebb into nothingness did House finally disentangle himself. "So", he asked, propping up on his elbows and grinning widely, "how was that for you?".

The immunologist took gulps of air and wiped a hand against her forehead, feeling the sweat. The other she used to stroke his cheek. "Five out of ten?".

House laughed and pulled himself up so that they were level, breathing heavily himself. He'd forgotten how strenuous the whole thing was. "That's fair. I was a bit rusty, truth be told".

Cameron looked at him, wiping his mouth with her thumb. "It was truly amazing, House, thank you. Where did you learn to do that?".

The man raised an eyebrow before replying in his characteristically exaggerated Southern drawl. "It's simple biology, baby girl".

She remained looking into his eyes as she replied. "Yeah, but…I mean, umm, I don't see why any woman would ever break up with you, if you can do that".

A shadow passed over House's expression and he took a few moments to reply. When he did, his voice was low. "The problems arise when we leave the bedroom. If relationships were just sex, I'd be the happiest man on earth by now. But they aren't – they involve things at which I do not excel".

The brunette nodded thoughtfully. "Well", she replied, "I can't speak for anyone else, but you're doing pretty well so far". She trailed a hand over his t-shirt, thinking. They'd been together only a few weeks, to be sure, but it had felt so _normal_. The sex took care of itself, of course: it was abundantly clear that her partner was an exceptional lover, certainly the best she'd had. But more than this, the time they had spent in each other's company outside the bedroom had been equally enjoyable. For Cameron's part, she knew House's personality, knew exactly what she was getting into. But the truly gratifying thing was that _he_ seemed comfortable with _her _. It was still early days, but their start as a couple had been nothing less than fantastic. Cameron stealthily knocked on the wooden bedframe with her knuckle, unknown to the other. _Superstitions aren't **all** bad_.__

____

__"Thanks, Camster". House, who was still fully clothed, pulled her into his body and they cuddled for a few moments, happy to let the silence extend as each thought of the other. House drew little circles on the smooth skin of her back and nuzzled her hair with his nose._ _

____

__Suddenly Cameron laughed and turned to face him once again. "Two years ago I thought that your tongue was only good for uttering sarcastic remarks. And now we've found another use for it. That's…pretty great. For me". With this, Cameron could feel her body begin to tingle and she propped up on her elbows. "Hey", she poked him with a finger, as if struck with a sudden thought._ _

____

__The nephrologist, who had closed his eyes for a moment, opened one of them. "Sup?"._ _

____

__"Fancy a fuck?". The brunette winked at the other._ _

____

__House chuckled and scratched his face. "Fine. But you're doing all the work. Your constant writhing really took it out of me"._ _

____

__Cameron smirked but she already had her hands at the hem of his shirt. "Deal"._ _

____


	54. Domestic delight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the series, House washes plates with both Stacy and Cuddy. Now it's Cameron's turn. I quite like the episodes where we get glimpses of House at home just doing normal stuff. This chapter is written after that fashion, and it's a theme to which I'll definitely return as we progress. I know it's pretty cuddly, but House is pretty cuddly in the series when he's happy, so yeah. Thanks for continuing with this story. Even more thanks to those who take the time to bookmark, kudos or comment - it's really appreciated!

House awoke the next morning to an empty bed but the most delicious smell of frying bacon wafting through into the bedroom. He reached across and brushed his hand over the Cameron-shaped indentation in the memory foam mattress, smiling a little at its residual warmth and the recollection of their nocturnal activities. After a few minutes spent dozing, however, his rumbling stomach necessitated movement. Though a big fan of sleep, he liked food even more. The diagnostician threw back the covers and swung his legs off the side, automatically testing for pain. Satisfied that the aches were merely a consequence of last night's run, he slipped into the pants strewn on the floor. A cursory search for his t-shirt revealed nothing, so he shrugged and ambled towards the kitchen.

Rather than enter immediately he lingered in the doorway, observing the woman at work. Cameron was humming to herself as she fried various items in a huge pan, occasionally turning bacon and tomato over with a plastic spatula. Her dressing gown was yellow and black, emblazoned with the word 'Hufflepuff' across the lower back and she had on a pair of pink fluffy slippers. She was unaware of House's presence, and he took the opportunity to watch for a moment or two more, enjoying not just how the gown clung to her figure but also the warm fuzziness that arose in his heart at the disarmingly domestic scene. He couldn't remember the last time someone had cooked him breakfast.

Cameron turned to the coffee pot and saw House leaning against the doorjamb. "Damn. I'd hoped to have this ready before you got up".

"That's OK. I won't hold it against you", House replied from the doorway.

"I was gonna serve you breakfast in bed like you did for me last time". The brunette frowned slightly, annoyed that her plan had fallen through, which in turn caused a smile to break across the other's face. "What're you gawping at?", she asked.

"Ah, nothing", he replied, "you just look really cute when you frown".

"You're weird". Nevertheless, she smiled too and the two looked at each other. "Well?", she said finally.

"Well what?".

"Are you going to come over here and kiss me or what?". Cameron stood with hands on hips, the spatula still between her fingers. House did so, meeting her lips whilst running his hand over the silken gown. "Morning", she murmured, using her own to roam his back, feeling the muscles flex. The sizzling pan drew her away after a few moments and House wrapped his arms around her from behind.

"What's cooking?", he asked, breathing in the bacon smell.

"This is what we call a full English fry-up. Everything goes in a single pan – tomatoes, sausages, bacon, eggs, and hash browns. I've even got some, er…", Cameron checked the label, "…black pudding, whatever that is".

House, who knew exactly what it was, kept quiet for the time being. "Smells great. What's with the English theme though?".

Cameron sidestepped over to the kettle, which had finished boiling, and poured water into the pot for coffee. "Well, since I learnt that you liked cricket a while back, and since there's a good chance we'll be going to that conference in London next month, I thought it might be nice to get into the groove". The brunette stepped back a touch. "It looks pretty greasy. We may have to go for another run afterwards…do you think it's done?", she asked, turning her face to the side and pecking his cheek.

"Yeah. Let's plate up and I'll make some fried bread in the leftover oil. Toss me a couple of slices?". Cameron wriggled free from his grasp and did as asked. After House had distributed the food he set about frying the bread, which was soon added to the breakfast pile. He took it all to the small kitchen table while she poured the coffee. "I couldn't find my t-shirt, by the way. Do you know where it went?", grunted the man through a mouthful of egg and sausage.

Cameron grinned. "Did you look on the bookcase? I'll grab it". She got up from the table and disappeared into the bedroom, returning before long with the offending item, passing it across. "I got a bit excited last night, huh?".

House's eyes twinkled as he answered. "No complaints from my end. I pity your neighbours, though".

Cameron blushed and buried herself in her coffee. The pair ate in silence, making steady work. Only when she had completely finished the black pudding did House reveal to the other what it was made of. To his surprise, she merely shrugged and declared herself a fan. "Really? When I had it with Wilson he went white as a sheet", stated the nephrologist, heading back to the coffee pot for a refill.

"It tastes nice. That's all I care about. Anyway, I told you last week that I eat pretty much everything". Cameron pushed her plate away and folded her arms across her chest. "Have you given any more thought to the conference then?". For her part, she really hoped they would get the green light to attend. As she had told House in the office, it was too good an opportunity to pass up. She had finished her article and believed it to be extremely strong, but it never hurt to seek a final round of feedback before submission. Then there was the draw of experiencing a foreign city with him. The romantic possibilities sent a shiver down her spine, and she pulled the dressing gown around herself more tightly.

The nephrologist sat back and tilted his head. "I think it's a good idea. I'll run it by Cuddy on Monday then we'll need to sit down with the others and figure out what we're going to present. If we can't think of a theme for a coherent panel, you guys can just present what you want, and I'll fall asleep in the back".

"Fine. Speaking of the others…", Cameron twirled her hair between her fingers but kept her gaze on the man across the table, "…Foreman knows about us, and Chase probably does as well". After she finished speaking, she held her breath, unsure how he would respond.

House nodded. "Well, it was going to get out eventually". He didn't tell Cameron that Foreman had suspected his true feelings during the so-called assessment a couple of months ago. "I suppose there's only one thing left to do now".

Cameron was taken off-guard by this matter-of-fact reply. "What's that?".

"Go public".

"Hmm. How'd you feel about that?", she asked, wiping up the last of the sauce with a piece of fried bread. It really was delicious.

"You answer first. You know I'm not massively keen on explaining 'feelings', but I will if you will", he countered, taking a sip of coffee.

The immunologist shrugged. "I think you can guess how I feel about it. Foreman knew ages ago that I liked you, so telling Chase as well is really no big deal as far as I'm concerned".

"That's as may be, but Chase still likes you, and I'd prefer to avoid any office tension if at all possible. We're a small team, and friction is no good. It was hard enough the week I came back". House was alluding to the frostiness that had arisen between the fellows after the Café Spoleto debacle. It had made differential diagnoses especially irritating and _this_ was why he disliked discussing feelings. Not only were they hard to pin down in themselves, but their airing seldom led to anything positive. Still, a large part of him was willing to run that risk if it meant that he and Cameron wouldn't need to sneak around anymore.

Cameron sighed and rotated her mug between her fingers as she spoke. "You're right. But Chase is a big boy and we're not at school. He'll have to learn to deal with it, in my opinion".

House grunted but said nothing for a time, thinking over his companion's words. In a way, she was right: it really wasn't their problem whether or not Chase was OK with it. On the other hand, though, the Australian was a valued member of Diagnostics, and as its Head, House needed to ensure the department ran smoothly. But Cameron was worth the trouble. The slightly disconcerting fact was that she not only satisfied him; she made him _happy_ , and that was an emotion he couldn't help but feel…happy about. _You're tragic, Greg_. "I agree", he said finally. "We're all adults-", House looked pointedly at the brunette, "-or close to being an adult. It'll work out".

The woman smirked. "You'd best hope I'm an adult else the FBI will be knocking down your door this time tomorrow after what you did to me last night".

"Point taken", he replied, finishing the last of his drink and taking the dirty plates and cups to the sink.

"What do you think you're doing?", she asked from the table.

"Err, washing up?", he retorted, soaping up the water and scrubbing the mugs.

"You still need to tell me what you think about us going public". Cameron tapped her fingernails on the wood.

"Get your stunning little ass over here, then, and I'll reveal all. I'll wash you can dry". House tossed a dish towel across which landed on her face. The woman grinned and set about drying the items he had already stacked. "To tell the truth", he began after a moment or two, "I'm absolutely fine with telling the others. That's not to say that I wanna start yelling it from the rooftops. But I figure start small, y'know? The fact is, I really like being with you, so…yeah". House finished lamely and glanced at the other, who was smiling at him. "I'm not very good at this", he added, pulling his ear awkwardly.

"You're a lot better at it than you think you are, buster", she replied, eyes twinkling.

"Yeah?".

"Yep". The two worked in companionable silence for a time, each enjoying the proximity of the other. As Cameron thought about it, she couldn't recall the last time she had washed up with someone. She'd had a couple of short-term boyfriends since starting at PPTH, but they had been kept strictly at arm's length. And obviously Chase, during _that_ night, had got nowhere near her plates. Given House's expertise with food, the more she could keep him in the kitchen (and the bedroom), the better for her.

House nudged her with his hip. "Are we gonna discuss the fact you're wearing a Harry Potter dressing gown or nah?".

"Not _just_ Harry Potter. Hufflepuff". The brunette did a little twirl. "I bet you're too much of a grumpy old goat to like that sort of thing, aren't you?".

House raised an eyebrow. "Hmm. Do another spin and I'll let you know". Cameron did so, unable to see his eyes scan her body appreciatively. "Nope. _Massive_ fan", he grinned, finishing off the last of the crockery. "Actually, I have read the books…in Latin".

The immunologist laughed as she reached up to replace the pan on its hook. "Of course you have".

House waited until she had finished before pulling her towards him. "Thanks for breakfast".

"Thanks for rocking my world last night", she returned, tilting her lips upwards. "Now that you've revealed you can do that, I'll be wanting a House special more frequently than once a week…".

House rolled his eyes, but his words were playful. "That could be arranged. I need to hang out with Wilson too, though. He didn't explicitly say so, but I got the impression at the bar that he was missing me. I mean, who wouldn't?".

Cameron placed both her hands on his face. "Hey. You _never_ need to justify to me why you want to see Wilson. I've no problem sharing you".

The nephrologist smiled, touched at Cameron's thoughtfulness. "Well…", he said, hands moving to the tie of her gown, "…how about we burn off those breakfast calories by retiring to the bedroom for fifteen minutes…". In response, she moved her hands over his, preventing further movement. House raised an eyebrow: "…twenty-five minutes?". Still she refused to budge. "Fine, thirty minutes…", he offered. Her hand shifted but didn't completely drop. "Forty minutes and an encore of last night's performance. Final offer. Take it or leave it", he whispered.

Finally, Cameron's hands fell away, and House pulled the tie, eyes widening imperceptibly as her nakedness was revealed. He slowly pushed the garment from her shoulders, and it tumbled to the floor. The nephrologist kissed his girlfriend hard, both hands on her waist. She tasted of coffee and bacon. _Yummy_. "OK", he swallowed, "because it's you, I'll stretch to forty-five minutes. Then we're watching Star Wars". With that, House half-led half-pulled her into the bedroom.


	55. Boundary issues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> House mentions his disappointment with the Star Wars prequels in one of my favourite season three episodes, 'Son of Coma Guy'. I'm extrapolating from that his approval of the original trilogy. I hope people are still enjoying this story and that it's not too slow and boring. I've got a fair bit planned long-term.

Foreman entered Diagnostics Monday to the sight of Cameron at the shared desktop. "Morning", he said, moving over to the coffee pot and noting with satisfaction that his colleague had already prepared enough for himself and Chase. She had been designated chief brewer early on. Chase's efforts were lacklustre at best, and his own varied between too strong or too weak. "What're you doing?".

The immunologist looked up and smiled. "Hey. Oh, you know, the usual: answering fanmail, organising groupies, sending off autographed photos of the team. You'll be pleased to know that the ladies seem to prefer you with a shaven head after all".

Foreman sank into a chair at the conference table. "You joke about fanmail, but I heard from Wilson last week that the new sponsor has signed on chiefly because of House. And these London guys asked for us by name. It seems we're building up some street cred".

Cameron nodded. "Well, isn't it why we applied for this fellowship in the first place? The guy is one of the best doctors in America. I know I've learnt a hell of a lot under him".

The neurologist threw a suggestive wink. "I bet you've spent quite a bit of time under House recently, eh?". He sat back and gazed at the other, trying to get a rise.

Cameron only grinned, willing to play along. "You're sharp today. I suppose you'll be wanting all the details, hmm? Well, I can tell you that House has a very big-".

But the other quickly held up a hand. "OK, OK. That's enough. I had my breakfast barely an hour ago".

"Huh? I was only going to say that he had a very big television set. What were _you_ thinking?", she replied, tapping a finger to her lips innocently.

Foreman took a sip of coffee. "Yeah, yeah. Did you have a good weekend then?".

The brunette folded her arms, pleased to have beaten him at his own game. _Small victories_. "I did. Spent most of it with House before using Sunday for a shopping excursion. Oh, I saw Star Wars for the first time, too".

"Yeah? I can't believe you've not watched it before".

Cameron scoffed. "House said the exact same thing – what is it with guys and lasers? And I didn't really understand the Force, to be honest. Like, is it innate in everyone or just certain people?". This was a question she had asked of House immediately after they'd finished the movie marathon. He'd replied that it was, in fact, innate and theoretically open to all. But when as a corollary question she'd asked why, if the Force was so widespread, there were only a handful of users in the galaxy, he'd replied that the only thing such inquiries were doing was revealing to him the necessity for her to undergo a comprehensive Star Wars education, including 'the crappy prequels and sequels'. The woman had shut up after that, pretending that the entire franchise was not riven with plot holes, logical inconsistencies and downright ridiculousness. House loved it, and that was enough for her.

"Err, I think it's certain people. Don't quote me on that, though. I only watched it for Leia in the golden bikini". Even if he had a hundred guesses, Foreman would not have landed on Star Wars being a conversation topic in the office with Cameron.

The immunologist nodded sagely, looking her colleague squarely in the face. "I don't blame you. I'd turn gay for her myself". Foreman spluttered into his coffee to the sound of Cameron's laughter. "You guys are so easy, honestly".

"It's going well with House, at least?", he asked, though her playfulness was all the answer he needed.

"It is. How was your weekend?".

"Went to the bar with Chase on Friday and just chilled in the apartment most of the time". Foreman didn't bother revealing that he'd seen their colleague leaving with the redhead later in the evening. "Speaking of Chase", he added conversationally, "I can't help but notice that you haven't told him about you and House yet. I know it's not my business, but I really do think now is the time". The neurologist winced, aware that Cameron was usually decidedly grumpy when she felt that others were meddling in her affairs.

But to his surprise she only nodded. "Well, now _is_ the time. House and I are going to come clean this morning and we'll see what happens".

"Huh". Foreman got up and took his mug to the sink, rinsing it under the tap.

"What?", she asked, looking up from the computer screen.

He leant against the sink as he replied. "I just…you guys are actually serious, then? I mean, I knew you were but…I'm just surprised, kinda. And also not surprised".

Cameron sat back in her chair. "I suppose we're _becoming_ serious, yeah. I dunno, I just don't want to look too far, ahead, y'know? I'm very aware that House is an unusual man, and things probably won't be this straightforward in the long-term. But in the short-term, I'm very happy". As she thought about it, her cautious nature came in handy when dealing with House. It went without saying that her feelings were daily growing stronger the more she learnt about his peculiarities. But though she'd happily spend every waking moment in his company, she was still careful not to smother him, nor to let slip unguarded pillow talk. All the same, Cameron was finding it hard to deny the warmth that spread through her body when he was close, and the sense of emptiness when they parted.

Foreman looked at his colleague. "You're already thinking long-term?". Although he'd known that she had liked their boss for a while, it was still a surprise to hear that the couple were exactly that – a couple. Great for Cameron and House. Not ideal for Chase.

The brunette shrugged. "It's just a thought. I don't want to jinx it".

At this, the Australian wandered into the department and went straight to the coffee. "Morning. What are we talking about?". Since he had his back to the others, he missed the quick look that Foreman shot Cameron, who shrugged and got up, bracing herself against the desk.

"Well", she began slowly, "we were talking about my relationship…with House".

Chase, who had been sipping his coffee, tilted his head. "So, you're together, then?".

"We are", nodded Cameron. "It's still early days, though, so…".

The intensivist smiled. "I'm glad it's finally out in the open. Foreman and I suspected for a while, you know".

"Yeah, he mentioned that. I guess you guys have known my feelings for a long time, huh?".

"Mmm. Well, congratulations. I hope it works out for you both. As long as you're happy, we're happy". Chase sat at the conference table and began his crossword, seemingly finished with the conversation. This wasn't the time either to confess his attraction or to put forward his arguments for House's unsuitability. Though he had been expecting this news eventually, the truth hurt nevertheless. Still, he _did_ want Cameron to be happy. That part was completely genuine.

Before Cameron could inquire further, though, House walked into his office, turning on the computer and slinging his rucksack under the desk. Soon, he'd ambled in to join the others. "Morning, minions. I hope you had a wonderfully restful and provocative weekend." Without waiting for an answer, he trooped over to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup before turning back to face his employees. "You'll be delighted to know that I do have a case lined up – it's a college cheerleader, by the way. You're _welcome_ , er, Choreman", House glanced at the two men pointedly, before continuing: "Does that work? I think it works. What do you think, Camster?".

"Catchy", she smirked, folding her arms.

House cleared his throat and suddenly looked sheepish, glancing in Cameron's direction. "But, ah, before we get into that, there's a big old elephant in the room we have to, er, confront".

The immunologist went over to stand next to her boss, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I already told them. Stand easy, soldier".

The nephrologist breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Thank God. I was afraid that if I informed them I was banging you it'd be awkward around the office. Probably best that it came from you, nice one".

Foreman stroked his chin. "Really? Nope, it's not awkward at all. Chase?".

The Australian shook his head vigorously. "Not awkward, no, sir".

"Excellent", House replied lightly. "In the meantime, if you guys could try and convince your female colleague of the merits of threesomes, I'd obviously be extremely grateful-oww!". Cameron's elbow in his ribs pre-empted further chat. She smiled sweetly in his direction, poised to mete out further punishment.

When House continued, he sidestepped to the other side of the shared bookcase, talking at them through the shelves. "Nah but in all seriousness now, the fact that I'm…", he picked up a giant reference book and wielded it like a shield, "…tapping dat ass…", Cameron stuck her tongue out but made no move of aggression, "…will not change anything round here, dudes. We're all on the same side, and Cameron won't be getting any special treatment. As far as you're concerned, it's business as usual in Diagnostics, OK?".

Chase nodded, and he was quickly followed by Foreman. For all his ironic putdowns and annoying quirks, House had always been an equal opportunities boss – he treated everyone as poorly as everyone else. There were no favourites. Weirdly enough, for Foreman, he had no apprehension regarding House and Cameron while they were _in_ a relationship; he only feared what might happen if they ever fell _out_ of their relationship. House was not forgiving of enemies, and though he thrived on conflict himself, he would never condone its existence in his department. This was partly why the neurologist was wary of Chase's own reaction. He'd seemed fine with the news, but appearances could, as ever, be deceptive. The situation would need careful observation.

"Fantastic", exclaimed House, moving back to re-join his subordinates now that the threat of Cameron-shaped retaliation had receded. "The final item on our agenda is the London conference. I've already got the green light from the Mistress of Evil, so it remains for us to think about a panel theme and for you to get cracking with your papers. We can leave that for now, though. The sexy cheerleader isn't gonna cure herself- _ow_!". Cameron had once again elbowed him in the ribs. "I can't even _appreciate_ another female?!", muttered the diagnostician, rubbing the area.

Cameron winked at him. "Oh, I don't care about that".

"Then why'd you elbow me, woman?".

"I enjoy inflicting pain", she returned, meeting his gaze.

Suddenly House grinned. "OK, we're taking that attitude to bed tonight, little lady".

"Whoa, hey", interjected Foreman quickly, "our one and only rule is you keep _that_ kind of shit to yourselves, or at least out of earshot. Deal?". The neurologist folded his arms and glared at the two culprits, who looked at each other and shrugged. "Deal", they replied in unison. With that, House handed over the files and the three doctors got to work, just as they had hundreds of times before. 


	56. Mental minefield

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As is my wont, I've redirected to Cameron (and adapted) some of the dialogue House speaks to Cuddy in the show. Only the truly hardcore fans will know which lines I mean. There's a fair bit of swearing in this. I read recently that "obscenity is the distinguishing hallmark of a sadly limited vocabulary". Needless to say, I disagree.

That afternoon, Wilson was walking towards the elevator when he spotted House chatting to his fellows a little further down at a junction in the corridor. By the time he was within hailing distance, Chase and Cameron had headed off in one direction whilst Foreman had gone in another. House stood alone for a moment or two, eyes lost in that familiar far-off glaze – it took him a couple of seconds to register Wilson's presence, and when he did the greeting was a distracted one. The oncologist waved a hand in front of his friend's face. "How's the case going?", he asked, drawing level with the diagnostician.

"Open and shut. We'll have her cured and home in time for Seth Meyers. Or maybe she's a Sean Hannity fan".

"You're struggling, aren't you?". The two walked to the elevator.

House shrugged. "For now. The woman's progressing pretty rapidly through our list of symptoms".

"Which are?".

The nephrologist snorted. "Don't worry about that. I'm not so desperate that I need your valuable input quite yet".

Now it was Wilson's turn to shrug as they entered the elevator and the doors slid shut. "Suit yourself. How did the run with Cameron go on Friday?".

"What if I told you that I won?", mused House, glancing sidelong at his friend, who raised his eyebrows.

"Bullshit you won". Wilson folded his arms.

"Why is that so hard to believe? Don't you have faith in me?".

"No. And even if I did, which I don't, I'd still back Cameron all the way. She's half your size and age, lighter on her feet…oh, and not crippled". The elevator opened on their floor and they walked out.

"Hey", replied House, "you can't insult disabled people, that's just not right. Anyway, I'm in tip top shape nowadays. We have our friend Mr. Ketamine to thank for that. I think he's a gentile, though, so don't tell Cuddy...or, er, yourself". The pair stood aside to let a gurney flanked by a team of doctors rush past, before continuing on.

"Hand it over, House, or I'll tell Cameron on you".

House sighed but fished out his wallet. A deal was a deal. "Fine. But I'll have you know it was really close. I was only a few seconds behind". The diagnostician peeled off the bills. "Cameron gave me a kiss when I paid up to her on Friday. But I'm absolutely fine with you _not_ doing that". The memory of that kiss, and what they'd done afterwards, came back to him and he shook his head a little, trying to retain his focus. As he'd confided after their run, the brunette was beginning to inhabit his brain even during a case, an area of his mind which had previously been a completely woman-free zone.

"That makes two of us then", replied Wilson, depositing the money safely inside his jacket, as far away from House's thieving fingers as possible. The two had reached Diagnostics and they stopped by the glass. "You wanna hang out tonight or are you both still loved up?".

House had walked halfway through the door but at his friend's words he doubled back. "I'm not- we're not, er, loved up. It's not even, I mean, I haven't; she hasn't-".

The oncologist raised an eyebrow, always delighted when his usually composed companion was at a loss for words. "I swear, sometimes you are positively Churchillian".

House waved his hand. "Don't you have oncology to do? Go find the cure for cancer. People are counting on you".

"Actually, I'm attending a board meeting in fifteen minutes at Cuddy's invitation". Wilson decided against elaborating on this. If the sponsor checked out, House would have to meet him eventually, but there was no point informing the other until the deal was done. "So are we on for tonight or what?".

"Probably gonna have to postpone. This case is looking like it may be an all-nighter and I know you like to get your full eight hours". House had been blasé about it earlier, but the fact was they had little inkling as to what was affecting their patient. Even if he himself didn't stay at the hospital through the night (after all, that's what fellows were for), it was at the very least likely to be a late finish.

"Alright. I guess I'll see you tomorrow then". With that, Wilson waved and headed to his office.

"Have fun at the board meeting, nerd!", called House down the hallway before entering his office.

"Takes one to know one, loser!", came the resounding reply.

House wrote several key words up on his personal whiteboard and sank into the chair, picking up the baseball resting by the monitor. It was a strange constellation of symptoms, and sometimes there was nothing for it but to sit in silence and let his brain work through the problem. None of the usual tests had turned up anything conclusive which led him to think that the answer was to be found in her environment. Cameron and Chase were on the way to her college dormitory. To his knowledge, none of the other cheerleaders had taken ill, so that ruled out communal areas like changing and shower rooms.

While he thought, House's mind flicked inevitably back to Cameron. Though she was too professional to say anything, he could sense her slight unease at accompanying Chase. But the diagnostician had made it clear early on, and again this morning, that he wouldn't give her special treatment. He wasn't worried, though – Cameron had shown herself to be resilient and conscientious, and she had made it plain over the weekend that she was willing to work hard in ensuring their team functioned smoothly in spite of the changed situation between them both. _Focus_. House shook his head and tossed the ball from hand to hand, working through the list once more. The answer was here somewhere.

* * *

The three fellows were seated around the conference table looking at their boss as he paced back and forth. The clock on the wall displayed the time as approaching one in the morning, and they were still no closer to diagnosing the cheerleader who was now critically ill but, for now, stable, despite a significant seizure ten minutes previously. "Think! What would make her seize?", asked House whirling around to face his employees.

"Pesticide poisoning?", suggested Cameron, running a hand through her hair.

"Carbamates or organophosphates", added Foreman.

"Organochlorine…inhalation or absorption, though?", Chase this time. "But I've already got a rush on the bloods and the earliest we get the results is tomorrow first thing. If it's an organophosphate we'll know then".

"What's her native heart rate at the minute, without the pads?", queried House.

"Holding steady at thirty-six. We can't take her off them yet – too risky", stated the neurologist.

"Yes, thank you, Sherlock". The nephrologist turned back to the window and looked out into the pitch black for a few moments. The dark silhouettes of trees loomed in the middle distance, swaying in the autumn wind. "If it's poisoning we can expect liver toxicity to increase overnight. I want, er…", he stumbled.

"Poonam", supplied Cameron.

"Poonam? What the hell kind of name is that?", he wondered.

"I think it's Indian".

"Whatever. I want the nurses checking in on her every half hour. The rest of you can go home, get some sleep. There's nothing more you can do for now. I want the blood results on my desk as soon as humanly possible tomorrow and we'll wrap this thing up".

The fellows got up and wearily made their way to the door. "What are you gonna do?", asked Chase.

"Watch porn", he replied in a beat. The two men made a face and prepared to leave, but Cameron lingered. "Go", he reiterated, "get some sleep. We'll reconvene bright and early". House waited until the trio had left before venturing back into his office where, as he'd done earlier in the day, sat in his chair gazing at the whiteboard. After a few moments he got up and added 'organophosphates?' in thick black marker. Foreman was probably right there, and that's what annoyed him – _he_ should have seen it. A basic deduction missed. House wanted to spend the next thirty minutes thinking the whole problem through, checking and double-checking his insights. Logic was meant to be his forte, but recently…

House sat in the darkened room for some time, deep in thought. It wasn't just tonight. Over the last several months, he'd noticed how fewer of the team's breakthroughs had been down to him: Cameron had figured out the Sjögren's syndrome case, was in fact basing her paper on it; Cuddy had correctly determined sarcoidosis in their most recent one. Even in the porphyria diagnosis before the German meal Foreman had taken half the credit. Then there was the time he'd ridden off on his bike halfway through a case to get away from the possibility that Cameron might leave him for Chase. Focus had been lost, of this he was certain. The cause was obvious. House sighed and span a baseball from hand to hand.

Suddenly the door to his office opened and Cameron walked in carrying two takeout coffees and donuts. Again, the diagnostician sighed. "I thought I told you to go home".

The brunette ignored him and placed the cups on the desk. "I brought you a pick-me-up from the 7-Eleven opposite".

"I'm not thirsty. Or hungry". House's voice was low.

Cameron looked at the other for a moment or two, detecting the tone. "That's fine. I'll leave it here just in case".

"Why are you doing this?", asked House, replacing the ball.

"It's just donuts and coffee", she replied, still standing by the desk.

He shook his head and spread his arms widely, encompassing the room. "No. I mean, why are you doing _this_?".

Cameron grasped immediately what her boss meant. "We've been through why I like you, House", she answered slowly. The coffees remained untouched in their cardboard holders.

The nephrologist got up and started pacing, just as he'd done in the conference room earlier. "Yeah, well, it's…ah, fuck it…fuck it".

"What's the matter, House?", the woman asked softly, aware that the next few minutes would need to be handled delicately.

"Nothing", he grunted immediately, turning away to look out of the window but seeing only his reflection in the glass.

"I don't believe you".

Suddenly he whirled around, eyes flashing. "I don't give a shit if you don't believe me – it's the truth".

The outburst surprised Cameron but she walked towards him all the same. "I don't believe you", she repeated levelly.

House sneered and his voice dripped with sarcasm. "Well, I can say it again, but I don't really fancy going round in circles".

Cameron walked up to the other and folded her arms. "Speak to me".

He rolled his eyes. "I think we're already doing that: my gums are flapping; yours are flapping. Ergo, we are speaking".

"Enough", she stated, holding up a hand. "I want the truth".

House shook his head. "No".

"I'm not leaving here until I get the fucking truth, House. So if you wanna play it that way, I suggest you settle in for a long night because we already know you can't outrun me". Cameron widened her stance and met his gaze unflinchingly. All those years of experience dealing with older and younger brothers was certainly coming in handy. As she had realised months ago, House may be unique, but he was still a man.

The hours of frustrated discussion, lack of food and sleep and disgruntlement burst its bounds as the diagnostician rounded on his girlfriend. "The truth? Fine. These last few months I have been an absolutely shit doctor. I've missed diagnoses, abandoned the hospital in the middle of a case, _groped_ you in a fucking stairwell rather than focusing on what _I_ do, which is saving lives. When I sit in front of _this_ whiteboard-", he jabbed at it so hard that the legs rocked back, "-I don't see symptoms anymore. I see, I see…", he trailed off, breathing heavily.

"What do you see, House?", she prompted gently, completely at odds with the other's anger.

"I see _you_ , Cameron", he replied fiercely, slapping the whiteboard with his palm. "I see your face, your hair, your body. You're in my fucking head. It's not right. I am a _worse_ doctor now than I was four months ago. And it's your fault I'm like this. People will die because of it. It's a goddam miracle that nobody has yet, though there's still time because that cheerleader is hanging on by a thread. It's…it's not right". House finished, his anger burnt out, looking at the floor.

Cameron reached up and stroked his cheek, speaking softly. "House, listen. I know how important medicine is to you, and I'm sorry that I've impinged upon it. But I'm also not sorry, because I finally have what I want".

"People will die, though. What you or I want doesn't matter against that", he replied, still refusing to meet her eye.

"We're a team, House. If you've been distracted, you have to trust us to pick up the slack until you adapt to our situation. You don't need to do everything yourself and it _will_ get easier".

The diagnostician looked up. "But how on earth can you know that? Because right now I'm struggling to focus on anything that isn't you".

Cameron smiled. "I know because I've been through it".

House nodded. "With your husband?".

The woman tilted her head, and the smile dancing around her mouth widened. "No. With you".

The other looked surprised. "You seem to be coping much better than I am".

"I've had a lot of practice. I think I mastered my feelings for you about….", she tapped a finger against her lips as she thought back, "…one and a half years ago. Give or take a couple of months. I've already told you how disappointed I was when you kept rejecting me: my standards slipped, though I had Foreman and Chase to help me out. After a couple of months, I learnt to deal with it by compartmentalising my work, my life, and my feelings for you".

House's eyes glazed as he thought back. "I don't remember you making any mistakes".

Cameron smirked. "You were too busy with Stacy to notice". It never ceased to amaze her how quickly House's flashes of anger transitioned into thoughtfulness and calm. Either way, it was telling that the man's preoccupation was once again emerging. Cameron yearned for the day that he would look at her just as he'd looked at Stacy through the glass of Mark Warner's hospital room. Obviously, the brunette couldn't compete with their history and the years of affection which had accumulated over that period, but she, _they_ , were at the very least making tangible progress. An exhilarating thought, and worth enduring any amount of anger from House.

The nephrologist grunted before turning to sit on the edge of the desk. She was right to say that he'd also been distracted when Stacy had come back – he could distinctly recall missing a case simply to catch a rat in her loft; going to her house only to spend time in her company. Maybe that was a useful parallel. And yet, as he'd told Wilson a while ago, this relationship felt different. Stacy had been familiar, comfortable. There was passion, yes, but it was measured, and thoughts of her hadn't occupied his brain to quite this degree. Perhaps Cameron was right in saying that it was just a matter of time, a matter of adapting. House sat up and flicked her nose with his thumb, causing her to wrinkle it characteristically. "You're annoying", he said.

She raised an eyebrow. "Says you?".

House reached across to the coffee and took a sip. "Look, I take your point, but I'm still going to sit here and stare at my whiteboard for a while".

The other nodded. "You don't think it's poisoning?".

"I think it is. But I still want to work it through. By myself", he added.

"No problem", she replied, patting him on the cheek before collecting her own drink and heading for the door.

"Where are you going?".

Cameron turned around. "Home. You literally just said you wanted to be alone".

"I said I wanted to think by myself. I didn't say I wanted you to leave. If you're right and it really is a case of adapting, then we may as well start now".

The immunologist sighed, pretending to be irritated. "Has it occurred to you that I might actually want to go and sleep? It's two in the morning".

House was now munching on a donut. "Your words say one thing, your little face says something else. If you really wanted to sleep, you wouldn't have returned".

" _Fine_. What're you thinking?", she asked, walking back into the room. His insight had been correct.

"Park yourself in that chair over there and read a book while I conjure up my mental magic". Having made quick work of the first donut, he was starting on his second, which didn't escape Cameron's attention, who stood with hands on hips. "What?", he queried through a mouthful of sugar and cream.

"First, you said you weren't hungry; second, didn't your mom teach you that sharing is caring?".

House rolled his eyes but tossed over the bag. "There you go. Knock yourself out".

The brunette sat down and peeked inside, double-checking it wasn't empty. Satisfied, she looked up. "I don't have a book on me".

House rummaged around in his drawers before spinning one across the room. "Try this".

Cameron caught it and recited the title. " _Lesbian Prison Stories_. This looks…well thumbed".

"That's one way of putting it", he grinned. "Now shush. I have to focus". With this, he picked up the oversized tennis ball on his desk and began throwing it from hand to hand. The woman, meanwhile, settled in to read. Time passed, the only sound an occasional slurp of coffee, the turning of a page, the _pat pat_ of a ball; both doctors lost in their own world. House ran through everything, turning each symptom over in his mind, occasionally consulting a reference volume on the shelf by his chair, but generally keeping movement to a minimum. After forty-five minutes of careful study, he was satisfied enough to glance over to Cameron in the chair. She was fast asleep, the book open against her chest.

As quietly as he could, House took his coat from the stand and draped it over the other. The movement caused a stir. "Shh, go back to sleep", he whispered.

"There's room in this chair for both of us. We can just nap for a bit". Cameron patted the empty space beside her.

House was sceptical. "It looks a tight squeeze".

"We've done it before. Sit", she mumbled. The diagnostician scoffed but nevertheless did as asked, and the pair snuggled up. "Is it poisoning then?".

"Mmm. But she'll keep 'til the morning".

"So it was a wasted evening", she murmured sleepily.

"It wasn't wasted. It was exactly what I needed", he replied, head back against the rest. There was no reply and the sound of Cameron's regular breathing indicated that she had fallen asleep. After a few minutes, and with a half-smile on his lips, House had too.


	57. Early risers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope people are still enjoying this. Comments and criticisms are always welcome, and I'm extremely grateful to those who have shared their thoughts throughout.

House woke first, immediately aware that he couldn't feel his leg. A flash of white hot panic shimmered through his system before he registered that the cause of it was Cameron, who had settled rather uncomfortably in his lap. After a couple of calming breaths, and a glance at the clock on the wall which revealed that it was approaching seven in the morning, he poked the brunette gently. "Hey", he whispered. She stirred, though didn't wake. "Oi, woman", he repeated more forcefully this time.

This did cause Cameron to murmur. "I go by 'Allison', 'Cameron' or, if you're my grandma, 'Lissie'. I don't go by 'woman', sir".

House scoffed softly. "I'm not calling you Lissie. It's not even a real name".

The immunologist opened an eye and peered at him through the tangle of her hair. "You're not a real name".

"That literally makes no sense. Would you mind repositioning yourself? I'm struggling to feel my leg is the thing and it's making me a little anxious", House asked, stroking her back.

Cameron at once leapt to her feet. "Oh God, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have suggested we nap in this position. I completely forgot. Are you OK?". She looked down at him, concern etched on her face. House remained silent and she crouched to rub his leg gently, hoping to restore circulation as quickly as possible. "Fuck, I'm sorry, House", she repeated, continuing her attentions.

The diagnostician pretended to be in pain. "It's not your fault, but it does really hurt. Can you just do a bit higher up?".

"God, of course, of course", she replied quickly, immediately applying her fingers to his upper thigh and massaging the flesh as best she could through the denim. "Is this OK?", she asked worriedly.

House winced loudly. "Almost. A bit higher, though, and more to the right. It's _really_ uncomfortable".

"Higher? I can't go any higher without…". Cameron looked up and met the other's eyes, which were alight with mischief. She punched his good leg with a mixture of genuine annoyance and playfulness. "You are _mean_ , House. Extremely mean. I was really concerned about you for a moment there".

"I know. Your face was a right picture, to be honest", he laughed. "But I was pretty touched at your reaction".

"Well, I thought I hurt you. Of course I'd be upset", she replied, still crouched down.

"I didn't mean that. I was touched that you'd forgotten about my leg in the first place".

"What do you mean?".

House's eyes glazed as he spoke. "For so long, my disability defined me. I was the curmudgeonly, pill-popping, cane-wielding diagnostician on the third floor. But you forgot about all that for a moment or two".

Cameron nodded, moved by his sharing this insight. "You'll always be House to me, irrespective of the state of your leg, even if the ketamine treatment finally wears off and you have to go back to your cane again".

The diagnostician tilted his head. "That's a bold strategy, Cotton. Let's see if it works out for you". Though he framed his reply as a film quote, House in truth harboured serious misgivings regarding the survival of their relationship if the situation Cameron mentioned ever came to pass. He was ready to accept that she didn't want to fix him, or that she really would stand by him if his leg deteriorated. But he wasn't sure if _he_ was ready to let her do that. At the moment, and despite the age gap, their relationship was free and easy, since they could share the load. There was no way he'd be able to keep up with a cane, though, and he refused to saddle her with the weight of a crippled boyfriend when she had other, younger, more suitable romantic options available.

" _Dodgeball_ ", she stated triumphantly, unaware of his sombre internal reflection.

Dispelling the dark thoughts, House smiled. "I'm liking you more and more".

"Even though I think Star Wars is overrated nonsense?", she asked slyly. But the other's face immediately went white, and his smile disappeared. "Too soon?", she pondered aloud. "Too soon, yes. Anyway…nice weather we're having, don't you think?". The brunette jerked her head towards the balcony. Unfortunately, the fact that it was completely dark outside detracted somewhat from the force of her observation.

"Make yourself useful and help me out of this chair, _Lissie_ , and I'll consider forgetting that you have zero taste in movies after all", he grumbled.

Cameron was on the point of getting to her feet and extending her hand until she retracted it suddenly. "The second option is that I, ah, continue your massage".

House glanced down at her still crouched by his side. "I told you. My leg's fine".

She looked at him pointedly. "I'm not referring to your leg, Sherlock".

The man exhaled softly. "Ordinarily, I'd accept in a heartbeat, but I can't in all good conscience have a good time with you until we've cured this cheerleader. It goes against my code of misconduct".

"Fair enough. I think it's still a bit early for the lab to open, though, and I thought you wanted to wait for her blood results before settling on a diagnosis". Cameron helped the other to his feet and watched as he yawned widely, stretching his arms and legs like a cat. His eyes were bleary with sleep, his hair messy, and his stubble was thick, and he still looked as sexy as ever. If anything, he looked even better.

House saw her staring and nudged her with his hip. "Stop that. We've stuff to do. I wanna check in on the patient first. Y'know, to ensure she survived the night. Then we can terrorise the lab techs into processing the bloods. After that, you can buy me breakfast".

Cameron folded her arms. "Why am I the one buying, eh?".

The diagnostician gave her his best puppy dog eyes, and he grabbed his leg. "It's just…the pain, it's too much…a free breakfast will lift my spirits, speed my recovery. You know as well as I that a positive mind is a positive cure. Or something".

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. But you're not playing the leg card for at least a week after this. We need to drop by my locker so I can retrieve my purse".

"No problem. I think whatserface's room is in that direction anyway. Let's hit the road. The sooner we know she lives, the sooner you can feed me. I'm hungry".

"Well, when you put it like that how can I resist?", Cameron replied, allowing an impatient House to shepherd her out of the office.

* * *

The pair were in the cafeteria eating breakfast. The patient had remained stable overnight under the watchful care of the nurses, who had learnt years ago that when Dr. House asked them to do something, it paid to do it. The lab was still unstaffed, which meant that their test results were, for the next half hour, unreachable. Occupying the nearby tables were various members of the nightshift, tell-tale bags under their eyes, who had come in for some sustenance before clocking off. As a rule, House avoided this time of morning. Working twenty-four hours a day was what junior doctors were for. He took a bite of toast, quickly followed by a spoonful of porridge, washing it down with a gulp of coffee.

Cameron looked on with amusement. "You don't have to eat so fast, you know. The food's not going anywhere". She had settled on a bowl of cereal and a couple of pieces of fruit.

"Yeah, well, I lost some once, and I swore it'd never happen again", he replied, not slowing down.

"Uhuh. If it makes you feel any better, I can assure you here and now that I will _never_ steal your food".

House met her eyes over the rim of his coffee cup. "You really mean that?".

The immunologist adopted a solemn air and held a hand over her heart. "I really do".

"That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me, thank you", he said, reaching across to pat her spare hand.

Cameron placed her hand over his on the table, sandwiching it between her own. "You'd best be careful with such a public display of affection. People might think we're in a relationship".

He raised an eyebrow before slowly and deliberately reaching across again, creating a little tower of hands. "All we need now is a bit of cheese…".

"Why's that?", she asked, completely nonplussed.

"Because then we'd have a double cheese and _ham…d_ sandwich. Get it?". House's eyes were twinkling.

A second or two passed as the other made a conscious effort not to engage, stifling a grin and pretending to be serious. "That's really bad", she offered after a few moments. "I mean, it's not your fault, considering how little you had to work with". This was something she had noticed during their time together: he was much more likely to crack a joke nowadays. No doubt being pain free helped, though she liked to think that she too was contributing towards his new-found happiness.

"Oh, come on. Everyone likes cheese and ham sandwiches. Maybe you didn't get it. See, that was the joke 'cos our hands were piled up on the table, then I was suggesting we add cheese to-".

"Yes, I figured out where you were coming from, House", she responded drily. "How about I give you a gold star for effort but with the understanding that there's room for improvement in the future?".

He doffed an imaginary cap. "I can accept that. Much obliged, kind lady". The pair smiled at each other. Cameron glanced down at House's hand covering hers. A thought of what those long, nimble fingers had done to her just a few days previously, and a couple of months ago in the German restaurant, sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine. It didn't matter that they were in the cafeteria early in the morning, or that they had just passed a fitful night crammed uncomfortably into his chair. The feelings arose regardless.

"What the hell are you two doing in at this time of day?". Wilson approached their table, clutching a coffee.

"I could ask you the same question", House replied, finally releasing her hands.

"I like to get in early every now and then so I can keep up with my paperwork". The oncologist slipped into the chair next to Cameron.

"That's weird. We're doing that too. Right, Camster?".

The woman saluted and replied with an exaggerated enthusiasm. "Right you are, boss!".

Wilson shook his head. "Ugh, you guys are the worst. Where are Foreman and Chase then?".

"I sent them home last night. Correction: I sent _all_ my fellows home, though I couldn't shake one of them". As he spoke, House glanced at the brunette, who merely grinned.

"Yeah? You guys camp out in the sleep lab?". Wilson tried not to sound jealous. House and Cameron deserved all the happiness in the world; he only wished a girl like her would come his way at some point.

"Dammit. Why _didn't_ we think of doing that?". House glanced accusingly across the table at his girlfriend, who shrugged.

"That would have been a good shout, for sure", she admitted. "Though don't they have cameras there?".

"All the more reason", winked the diagnostician. "You wanna hang out with us tomorrow night?", he asked, intentionally wording it so that neither would know whom he was addressing.

"Sure", replied both Cameron and Wilson immediately, right on cue.

House drew in a breath, his eyes flicking from one to the other. "Awkward. I wonder who I meant. Maybe you should both fight for my affection. Winner takes all, loser goes home in disgrace". He took a toothpick from the box on the table and starting chewing it, before adding in a thick Alabama accent: "Looks like we got ourselves a good old-fashioned catfight".

Wilson looked at Cameron, pointedly ignoring his friend. "Since you and sport over there are heating up, maybe we should have an informal gathering at my place, as a sort of get-to-know-you? I can provide pizza".

The brunette sat back. The evening she'd spent with Cuddy had been as enjoyable as it was rewarding. The next logical step was Wilson, and this possibility was exciting. It was one thing to gradually win acceptance and reciprocal affection from House himself, but it was something else that his best friend now wanted more information. Cameron knew Wilson to be fiercely protective of House, could still remember how he had come to her before their very first date after she had returned to work following Vogler's departure. The oncologist was the most important person in her partner's life, and she would work hard to maintain the equilibrium. "Hmm", she mused, "I could bring the beer?".

The nephrologist's smugness had taken a hit at their seeming indifference to his presence. "Fine. You don't need to fight. Luckily, I don't mind being shared. Shall we say 7.30?".

Wilson arched an eyebrow. "Sorry, who said you were invited?".

"Wednesday is pizza night. You wouldn't break tradition like that by banning me, would you? I thought Jews were all about tradition. According to _Fiddler on the Roof_ , anyway".

"Well, if Wilson is offering the pizza, and I'm bringing the beer, what are you going to bring?", asked Cameron, folding her arms.

House looked at her as if she was an idiot. "My sparkling company, obviously". He glanced at Wilson across the table, before adding in a jocular tone: "Kids say the darnedest things don't they, bud?".

"I'm in agreement with Cameron" returned a smiling Wilson. "You need to bring something too. Otherwise it's not fair".

" _Fine_. I'll think on it". House checked the time on his watch and got up, gesturing for the immunologist to do likewise. "The lab'll be open now. Let's go cure this fair maiden of whatever ails her". Cameron nodded and made to clear away their trays, but she was stopped by her boss. "Don't worry about them. Wilson's got it under control".

The man rolled his eyes but nevertheless inclined his head in assent. "Go ahead. Is your patient hot at least?".

"She's a babe, yes", House answered. "But obviously her sheer physical beauty, combined with her amazing rack and general athletic ability, had absolutely no bearing on why I decided to take this case. It was for purely medical reasons. Purely. Medical. Reasons". After each word, he nudged Cameron's hip with his own. She smiled indulgently, fully aware of what he was doing.

"Off you trot then. See you both tomorrow at my place". With that, Wilson pulled out his phone and began to browse the internet. The diagnosticians, meanwhile, headed for the lab, the blood results it contained and, hopefully, the final proof for their hypothesis of pesticide poisoning.


	58. Welcome to the club

The following evening, Cameron was driving to Wilson's apartment trying to keep her nerves under control. It was strange. Even before her initial dates with House she hadn't felt quite this apprehensive. She pulled up to the traffic lights and turned over some reasons as to why it might be. In the first instance, she had always felt weirdly comfortable around House. From the moment she had walked into Diagnostics, his mannerisms and calculated antagonism, rather than being annoying, had actually seemed familiar. Perhaps because she had grown up in a male-dominated household, a sister to two brothers, the role of lightning rod came naturally to her. More than this, though, as she had told House a while ago, she liked being in his orbit because he seemed a kindred spirit. The aloofness he cultivated, the diffidence to others, was a mirror to herself and it had the unintended consequence of making him even more desirable.

Cameron glanced over to the phone screen, double-checking the route. Wilson lived in an expensive part of Princeton, an area she hadn't yet visited. The beer bottles clinked together softly on the passenger seat. Satisfied, she got back to thinking. The main explanation for why she hadn't been overly nervous about dating House was simply because, as she'd admitted two nights ago, a lot of practice had gone into coping with her feelings for him. There was little he could do that would surprise her, and this fact, no matter how their relationship went in the future, was always a comfort. Thus, although their dates had technically been a journey into the unknown in the physical sense; mentally, she had a couple of years' preparation in the bank. It was _House_ , and she knew him.

The car glided down tree-lined roads amply lit by streetlamps at regular intervals. The nerves were churning in her stomach, as if daring her to diagnose their cause. _Gambit accepted_ , snorted Cameron. The cause was Wilson. Specifically, the importance she knew he held to House and the position he occupied as the next stage in the development of their relationship. This was a reflection upon which she'd alighted in the cafeteria yesterday. For a normal boyfriend, meeting the parents was an equivalent step. Obviously, House's parents were still alive, and she had met them briefly, but really their role had been assumed by Cuddy and Wilson, because they were the ones who had seen the diagnostician at his worst. Cameron had met with Mom last week. It was time now to meet Dad. _Scary_.

Cameron followed the disembodied voice on her phone and pulled up to a posh, red brick block, complete with white picket fence and well-tended lawns. Straightaway, she liked it. For some reason, she had pictured Wilson living in a drab, functional building like his best friend. But now that she was here, it seemed exactly the kind of place the oncologist would live. Cameron knew he'd been married until fairly recently. Perhaps it was the family home, picked for its comfortable suburban gentility and access to good schools.

The brunette couldn't help but think that she would like to raise a family in a neighbourhood like this when the time came. But who with? _You know who with_. Cameron shut off the engine and closed her eyes, pushing aside such thoughts. With a quick glance in the mirror she exited and walked around to the passenger side, opening the door and retrieving the crate of beer. It was probably too much, but better to be safe than sorry. Having locked the car she trooped up to the main entrance, using her elbow to ring the bell by her host's name. There were only three others, each stylishly embossed on a brass panel.

Wilson answered and buzzed her up to the first floor. He opened the door and immediately made to take the crate of beer from her. "I think you have us confused with the fraternity house opposite".

Cameron laughed. "Yeah, I wondered if it was a bit over the top".

Wilson grinned. "I'm sure we'll manage. Please, come in. The living room is just through there. House isn't here yet, surprise surprise. I'll stick these out of harm's way, though I have wine if you'd prefer?".

"Nah, beer is fine for now, thanks". The brunette left her boots by the door and wandered down the hallway, taking in the intricately carved table in the hallway and the pale carpets. The living area gave way to a huge flatscreen, bookcases, and leather sofa suite, in front of which rested a dark coffee table.

The setup immediately reminded her of House's place, except for the photographs on the shelves. She skimmed over the pictures. Most were of groups of people she didn't recognise, some young children whom she presumed were nieces and nephews. But amidst the collection, there was one of House and Wilson at a baseball game and another of them at a monster truck rally, leaning against the huge wheel of Gravedigger and grinning like idiots at the camera. Of course, she'd seen it with him herself. Unfortunately, no picture had been taken. That was something she'd have to rectify in due course.

Wilson came in and tracked her gaze. "That was a fun evening. House managed to swing the disabled card and got us seats by the pit wall".

"He always seems to get what he wants, doesn't he?", observed Cameron, taking the beer, which had been decanted into an Oktoberfest glass.

The oncologist shrugged. "It's hard to say. He tends to land on his feet, though, more times than not. I guess I'm an enabler in that sense. And now you are too. Welcome to the club". The two clinked glasses.

"Pleased to be here", she replied. "Is there a membership fee, or a convention I have to attend?".

"No, but it's the duty of all full members to ensure that he never, and I mean _never_ , gets his hands on a mobility scooter".

Cameron laughed. "I'll bear that in mind". The pair settled into the sofa. "You have a lovely home".

Wilson inclined his head. "Thanks. It's a nice place, but it's really too big for me. I'm probably going to move out in the near future and find somewhere a touch more affordable". The brunette surmised from his tone that he was keeping something back, and she could guess it concerned his ex-wife. It wasn't her business, though, and she refrained from asking. "Besides", he added, "House is constantly complaining that I live too far away. Might be nice to get back into town. I do feel a bit isolated out here, to be honest. Do you live close by the hospital then?".

Cameron took a draught of beer. "Yep, it's just an apartment a few miles away. Pretty small, but it serves my needs well. Been there since I started my fellowship. I pay rent every month and the landlord leaves me to it".

"Not looking to get your own place?".

"I have thought about it. But my fellowship contract is renewed yearly, so investing in a place has always seemed a bit of a risk. I'm not complaining, though. The salary's great, and so's the work. Maybe if the hospital took me on permanently, I'd look to buy".

Wilson nodded, quietly impressed at Cameron's practicality. Someone this equable was tailor-made for House. "Would you want to work here permanently? You're from Chicago, right?".

"Born and raised. I adore Princeton, though, and I'd love to stay at PPTH in the long-term".

"But…?", prodded Wilson with a smile.

The immunologist gave a wink, but he could tell from the far-off sound of her voice that she was revealing something she hadn't yet come to terms with herself. "But", she began, "it depends on House. As long as he's here, I'm here. If he ended up moving away…", she trailed off, unwilling to finish that particular train of thought.

"And if he asked you to move away with him?", asked the oncologist.

Cameron's gaze over the glass was unwavering. "I'd say 'when do we leave?'".

Wilson looked down as he spoke. "And if he was still at PPTH but you guys were no longer together?". It was a tough question, but he needed an answer. No matter how well things were going now, there was a reason House had been alone for so long. Suitable Cameron may be, but that was no guarantee of longevity. The oncologist knew from experience that, as far as his idiosyncratic friend was concerned, it paid to be prepared for any outcome.

The other sat back, cradling her drink. "Then I would have to think over my options very carefully. Would I be able to go back to being just his fellow? Would I be content working in a different area of the hospital? I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not". Cameron knew herself to be resilient, independent, and strong-minded. She had matured so much as both a doctor and a person in the few years she had been at PPTH. House had played a large part in this. But if the situation arose that she would no longer be able to think of him romantically, let alone that she would not be allowed to kiss him or feel his stubble against her cheek…she didn't know if she would be strong enough to go back to the way things were.

The man smiled faintly, and the familiar sound of a motorbike reverberated through the room from the street below. "Fair enough".

"Did I pass the test?", she asked, draining her glass and handing it to Wilson, who got up to refill it and answer the door.

"Yes. House is lucky to have you".

She tilted her head. "I consider myself the lucky one. But would you mind not telling House what we just spoke about? I don't want to spook him unnecessarily".

"Of course. You know that anything you tell me in that regard will remain secret unless you say otherwise. Scout's honour". Wilson moved into the hallway and opened the door with only a grunt at House before heading into the kitchen for more drinks.

The man himself loped into the living room, half out of his biker jacket before Cameron wordlessly enveloped him in a deep hug, resting her head against his shoulder. House responded immediately, wrapping his arms around her. "Hey, what's up? Are you OK? Wilson hasn't made a move on you, has he?".

Cameron smiled into the leather, loving how it smelled of fumes and House. "Nothing like that. I'm just really glad you're here. I missed you".

The nephrologist kissed her hair. "I saw you like two hours ago at work".

"Exactly. Just in time for another hug, I reckon". She pulled him into a kiss, running her hands over his chest, then his cheeks. With a quick glance to check Wilson was still in the kitchen, she whispered in his ear. "You make me so hot, House…".

He pulled back, a grin on his face. "Does that mean I'm getting the good lovin' tonight?".

The brunette chuckled. "Sure, as long as you're comfortable sleeping with me on a weeknight".

"I am if you are", he replied, looking into her eyes.

"It's settled then. One of us is gonna have to go easy on the sauce though, otherwise we can't drive back to yours".

House finally disentangled himself and hung up his jacket. "No need. Wilson has a guest bedroom. Actually, it's more like _my_ bedroom. My house away from home".

"We should at least ask him. It's rude not to".

"I was kind of hoping we could have sex just us two, to be honest", he commented, collapsing onto the couch and yanking her down with him.

Cameron poked him in the chest. "You know what I meant, genius".

The diagnostician rolled his eyes but nevertheless called out. "Oi, Jimmy. Can we stay here tonight?".

"Sure!", came the reply. "Is it safe for me to come back in now? I'm not sure I can drag out pouring these drinks much longer".

"It's safe!", called the brunette, before adding softly in a whisper to her neighbour: "You'd best hope he has condoms too, otherwise corporal House's night will be ending before it begins". The man prepared to yell at Wilson again, but Cameron immediately stuffed her hand over his mouth. "You are _not_ asking him that, buster".

House's eyes twinkled and he held his palms up in defeat, but not before licking the hand pressed against his lips. She giggled and withdrew, wiping it against his shirt. "Smart", he nodded sagely, "you know exactly where that tongue has been, eh?". Before she could think of a reply, Wilson came into the living room, handing over glasses of beer to his guests. House took a sip and hummed appreciatively. "I'm not a massive beer drinker, but this isn't half bad".

"I know. Cameron brought a crate of the stuff".

"A woman after my own heart". The diagnostician sipped again. "Now that I think about it, it tastes familiar. Where did you get it?".

"Believe it or not, I got it from the German restaurant we visited recently. They're not really meant to sell individual items to customers, but I asked nicely and Hermann diverted a crate my way at knock-off price".

House raised an eyebrow. "Hermann?"

"Yeah. I think he had the hots for me. I got it far too cheaply". Cameron could see both men looking at her and shrugged. "Newsflash. Guys do the silliest things if they think they're in with a shot".

"Yes, well, it's not our fault, believe me", commented the oncologist drily, all the times he had bought gifts and drinks for women flashing before his eyes. "Speaking of getting things, what have you brought, House?".

"Ah, well, I think you'll like it". He made his way over to his jacket and retrieved a brown paper bag, holding it out to his friend. "Close your eyes and have a whiff of this. It'll blow your little socks off".

The other looked suspiciously back but closed his eyes and sniffed regardless. The smell was truly divine. "Wow, that's unbelievable. What is it?".

"Chocolate brownies", House exclaimed triumphantly.

"Oh, great. Let me have a look". Cameron reached out for the bag, but her hand was slapped away.

"Absolutely not. You'll vacuum up all the smell molecules with that hooter of yours. Besides, last time I gave you one of these you demolished it inside ten seconds. Lesson learned". The nephrologist reverently replaced the bag, keeping his eyes fixed on his girlfriend in case she made a sudden movement, but she did nothing except smirk.

"You've had one of these before? How was it?", asked Wilson.

"In a word: heaven", she replied.

House sat back down and took a swig of beer. "Well, Camster here thought I'd bought her a Tiffany necklace. She was very quickly relieved of that notion".

"How can you confuse a brownie and jewellery?", queried the other.

"He cunningly hid it in a fancy box. I'm not a complete moron", stated Cameron, pretending to be offended.

"Naturally", conceded Wilson. "But I wonder where he got such a box?".

House tapped his nose. "I'm afraid I can't say. Trade-".

"-secret and all that", finished the brunette. "Yes, you've said that before. You're evading".

"Nope. I'm _hungry_. When's that pizza getting here, Wilma?". Just as he finished talking, the buzzer erupted.

Wilson got to his feet with a sigh, but not before pointing to Cameron from the doorway. "Guard my drink, please. He likes to insert…foreign substances into my beverages for no good reason".

"There's a reason", he whispered to her.

"To piss him off?", she mouthed back.

"Got it in one", replied House, pulling her close and relaxing back into the leather, completely content. It was shaping up to be a good night indeed.


	59. Couch potato

The three doctors were munching the last of the pizza and discussing films. Actually, they were discussing one film. Or rather, one _series_ of films. Wilson was sat in the large leather recliner nursing his fourth, and probably final, beer of the night; House and Cameron were sharing the sofa. The former, who was talking expansively on their chosen topic like a king holding court, had somehow located a bottle of Laphroaig whiskey; the latter was enjoying a glass of red wine and trying like anything to take things seriously. "I still don't get why you won't give any credence to my religion idea", she said.

"Because it's not a religion", House retorted.

"But correct me if I'm wrong, doesn't Harrison Ford's character say it's a religion in the first one?".

"By 'first', you mean Episode IV, _A New Hope_ ", interjected Wilson. Cameron suppressed an eye roll and nodded.

"Yes, he calls it a religion…", House admitted, but just as his neighbour was on the point of taking a victory sip of wine, he carried on, "…and there's an explanation for that. Well, two possible explanations. Either that's what Han Solo, as a non-Jedi, actually believes the Force is – in which case, he's wrong. Or the writers' conception of the Force changes as they get more of the story down on paper. Certainly by the later movies it ain't a religion". The diagnostician sat back and smirked at the other.

"Surely it depends on how you define religion, though? If you think religion needs a god, gods, or some other figure worthy of veneration to qualify as such then I agree that the Jedi aren't religious. But if you define religion as simply _believing_ in something and following a way of life, then I think Han Solo is on to something". Cameron folded her arms and smirked back.

"I _believe_ in threesomes and anal sex. Doesn't make me religious".

"That's not the same thing and you know it. What do you think, Wilson?". The brunette glanced across at their host, who held his hands up in surrender.

"I think…that it's time for bed". Wilson got to his feet somewhat gingerly. Despite years of friendship with House, his alcohol tolerance remained lamentably low. "House, would you direct Cameron to the bathroom and the spare toiletries and towels? See you in the morning. Don't worry about tidying up – I'll do it tomorrow before leaving for work".

"Night, Wilson. Thanks for inviting me over tonight", smiled Cameron.

"Not at all, not at all. Night, House!", he added in an exaggerated manner, aware that his friend had remained quiet.

"Night, lightweight", he replied. The oncologist could only shrug in acceptance as he made his way out of the room and down the hallway. Within a few seconds, they could hear the door close.

"Do you still want to talk about Star Wars, or can we go to bed?", she asked, bringing her feet up and sitting cross-legged to face the other.

House swilled some whiskey in his mouth before swallowing and holding out his hand. Cameron took it and allowed him to pull her close. "Let's just sit here for a little bit. I want to finish my drink, and we can give Wilson a few minutes' head start".

"Sure thing, couch potato", the brunette smiled, before snuggling against the other and holding his arm tight around herself. In the brief time they had been together already, this was one of her favourite things to do with House. It was further proof that he was slowly allowing her inside his bubble. The sex was one thing, but he was a man used to disposable pleasure, and no matter how fantastic he made her feel in the bedroom, this could always be put down to mere functional proficiency rather than anything deeper. But _this_ kind of proximity, where she could hear his slow heartbeat and see the rise and fall of his chest, felt significant somehow, as if they were connected emotionally.

Much like they had done in the office two nights prior, the pair remained in complete silence, listening to the faint sounds of Wilson in his en-suite bathroom, and the occasional car pass down below. Only when the distant running water had stopped completely did House stir, tapping his fingertips against her jeans. "You're good", he said suddenly.

"Thanks", she replied. "I think so too".

"Do you have any idea what I'm talking about?", he asked.

"Not a clue".

"Your clothes", he stated, still holding his fingers lightly against the denim.

"Ah". Cameron was wearing a tight top and low-rider jeans. "Well, I just threw these on. It was a bit of a rush to get from the hospital, back to mine, to the restaurant for the beer, then over here. This is all I could find".

"Uhuh. So you're saying that you didn't wear this combination on purpose, knowing full well that I'd mentioned how much I liked it a couple of months ago?". House's grip around her waist tightened.

"Nah, I can't remember that far back. You overestimate me". The brunette played with his fingers, pretending absentmindedness, when really a familiar warmth was beginning to spread through her limbs. She could feel the other angle his head to look down at her but she refused to engage, instead maintaining her position in the crook of his arm. House wasn't the only one who could play hard to get.

The diagnostician tugged her ponytail, forcing her face to tilt upwards. "I don't believe you", he said, meeting her eyes.

Cameron swallowed, detecting the change in his tone. House's hand in her hair was noticeable but not painful. "You're too suspicious for your own good".

"Yeah?", he replied, pulling a little harder, giving Cameron no choice but to expose her throat and the silver necklace.

"You're a suspicious…old…man", the brunette whispered, allowing him complete control for now. This was the version of House she was learning to treasure and to nurture – powerful, hot-blooded, overwhelmingly masculine. Visible only to her. Like the other fellows, Cameron witnessed their boss' various moods in the hospital, enduring his biting sarcasm, grumpiness, and flashes of anger as a simple hazard of the job. The three had learnt to deal with this in their own way. But now that she was _with_ House, the immunologist glimpsed an aspect of his personality that she'd not been able to experience before: his magnetism in a sexual sense.

As a disinterested employee, Cameron might be able to say, for example, that House had a certain strength to pursue a course of action against conventional wisdom; she might be able to observe that he had an idiosyncratic brand of charisma which enabled him to manage a department so haphazardly without any need for paperwork or administrative meetings. But as his girlfriend, Cameron was beginning to appreciate how this strength, this single-minded charisma, defined his personal life as well. Nobody else but her could see this, not even Wilson or Cuddy, because, as she was discovering, it was something which emerged only when they were in a sexual situation.

House, she was becoming sure of this, possessed an ability to flick a switch from business to pleasure, maybe even from rational to irrational. Intriguingly, though, Cameron was learning that she could flick the switch for him by her own behaviour, by acting strong and insistent one day, passive and innocent another. The key was to keep him guessing, so that his intellect never had the chance to pin her down into this or that category, so that his curiosity was never truly satisfied.

"And you, Dr. Cameron, are trying to push my buttons", House rumbled, snapping the woman back to reality. "Is that really the route you wanna take? It's a risky strategy". As he finished speaking, the diagnostician adjusted his position so that his face was centimetres from her own. "Answer my question", he demanded, still holding her ponytail.

The brunette's eyes met his, observing how their blue shade had darkened. _Progress_. "What was it again? I dozed off while you were talking". She kept her tone flippant, at odds with the beating of her heart and the tingling in her core.

"This top…", House's gaze roved down her body, taking in the shape of her breasts and the pale skin of her tummy, which had appeared as the shirt had ridden up during their jostling. "Those jeans…you're wearing them on purpose".

"They're just clothes, Greg", she answered, hoping the use of his first name would provoke a reaction. Her tongue darted out to moisten dry lips.

"Hmm". The nephrologist tilted her head back further, and brought his lips to her throat, nipping the smooth flesh with his teeth. Cameron inhaled sharply but made no attempt to move against his grip on her hair. It was a delicious sensation, knowing that she was utterly in his power yet completely safe. House trailed his tongue up to just under her jaw, feeling her quickening pulse, the evidence of her arousal. At the same time, he moved a hand to a breast and tweaked a nipple through her top. A murmur escaped her lips but she remained still. "You came here, to Wilson's home, intending to seduce me", he finished.

"Big deal. The, ahh…the question is, what are you gonna do about it?". She gasped as House nicked her chin.

"I'm going to fuck you", he replied simply.

"Yeah? Well, maybe I just want to sleep. Maybe I'll kick you to the floor instead and keep the bed all to myself". Their angle was causing her neck to ache but the woman ignored it, preferring to focus on feelings of a more intimate nature that were bubbling beneath the surface. This man turned her on and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

Without any warning, House kissed her hard, using her ponytail to break contact as soon as he felt her tongue attempt to invade his mouth. "Like I said: you're good. But I'm better".

"Let's agree to disagree", she replied in a voice thick with excitement.

At this, as if aware that she was hoping for a further escalation of tension, House released her hair, pulling her into his lap and brushing her forehead with his, allowing the passion to simmer a little. "I didn't know that you were like this. It's an attractive quality".

Cameron quickly forgot her disappointment, recognising that he was opening up to her again. She kissed his nose, just like he often did with her. "How attractive is it? Does it entice you more than my hair?". This was still something about him that she'd not yet figured out – how much weight he gave physical as opposed to mental attributes. It hadn't escaped her notice that all the ex-girlfriends she'd seen had been stunningly beautiful. This observation was something she'd revealed to him during their first night together, but she was interested to hear his position on the matter in the cold light of day, as it were.

"Hmm. Do you mind if I quickly jog my memory?", said the nephrologist, running his fingers through her hair. The other hand he placed at her waist, just under the hem of her top. Cameron only nodded, loving the feel of his fingertips' gentle caress, and the contrast of just a few minutes prior, when he had been forceful and demanding. The man removed the band of her ponytail, tucking it in his pocket as her hair tumbled down her shoulders. She watched closely as his pupils widened and his mouth opened slightly. "I'd say it's about even", he managed in a soft voice.

"Good to know". Cameron pouted, and brought both hands to his face before holding his lips once more to her neck. "Hey, House?".

"Mmm?", he replied against her skin.

"Can we go to bed now, please?".

"Wait. We need to finish our Star Wars debate". House sat back just in time to see the brunette wrinkle her nose.

"Look, is there anything I can say that would bring the, ah, 'debate' to as rapid a conclusion as possible? I'm asking for a friend". Cameron placed both hands on his chest, pushing him back into the leather couch.

"You can concede that I was right all along that the Force isn't a religion".

"So you're asking me to compromise my principles just so you can be right? That sounds like a pretty rough deal. I don't care about sex with you _that_ much".

House tilted his head. "Fine. I have a counter proposal".

"Go ahead".

"How about you say that I was right out loud, but you can take these fingers…", he reached down and took them in his own, "…and cross them behind your back. No one has to know, and we can both stay true to ourselves".

"Huh. So essentially what you're saying is that we resolve the impasse by being complete children about the whole thing? And then moving on with our lives?".

"Yes. That is exactly what I'm saying", he nodded. "I just don't think we should let it define our time together. I mean, there are far better films like _Bladerunner_ and _The Godfather_ out there. We shouldn't give George Lucas the satisfaction". House's hands edged up from her waist, trailing over the warm skin until he reached the strap of her bra.

Cameron sighed softly, luxuriating in his progress up her body. "Fine. House, you're right. I see it now. The Force is not a religion. I can't believe I thought it was, and I'm hoping beyond hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me. The end".

"You didn't cross your fingers", he noted.

"I know". The immunologist pulled him into a kiss and spoke into his mouth. "Let's go to bed – I've been wired for the last twenty minutes and I'm not waiting any longer".

Suddenly House got to his feet, hooking her legs around his waist, and carrying her towards the bedroom. "You and me both. But you need to keep the volume down, else Wilson will be grumpy tomorrow morning".

The other chuckled. "I'll try. Is it OK for us to do it in his guest bedroom, though? It's not weird?".

House kicked open the door to their room and ambled to the bed with her still in his arms. "I told you, this is basically my space and he knows the score. The man's a consummate wingman".

"You're a lucky dude, House", said Cameron, patting his cheek as he lowered her feet to the carpet.

He grinned before licking his lips wolfishly. "Don't I know it. Shall we begin?".


	60. Scarlett O'Hara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex warning!

House and Cameron kissed tenderly for a few moments before the latter pulled away. "I'm just going to freshen up a bit, wash my face, brush my teeth. Where can I find the toiletries?". House told her. "Great. Don't go anywhere".

"Fine. Best hurry up, though. My second girlfriend is expecting me later", he replied. Cameron only snorted and left the room. House went over to the window and pulled the curtains across before fishing out a spare condom from his wallet. Then he opened the bedside table drawer, retrieved his toothbrush and toothpaste, and made his way back out to the sink in the kitchen to complete his ablutions, not wanting to barge in on her as she was getting ready for night-time. Stacy had always liked her space, and it was safer at this stage to assume that Cameron did too.

Within a few minutes, House had returned to sit up on the bed, quickly checking his email. There was a message from Cuddy asking for an update regarding the London conference plans. It was fast approaching and they still needed to sort out their papers. The diagnostician himself was considering covering euthanasia, a topic that had always interested him but which he had so far not committed to paper. Still, that could wait for tomorrow. The man tossed his phone and, on the spur of the moment, got up to hide behind the door.

Cameron entered a matter of seconds later. "I was thinking-, where are you?".

He approached from behind, enveloping her in his arms. " _What_ were you thinking?".

The brunette jumped at the surprise. "Why do you insist on scaring me, hey?".

"It's fun?", he answered, nuzzling her neck.

"Mmm…I swear you'll give me a heart attack one of these days, Gregory House", she murmured, leaning back into his chest.

House span her around, speaking into her mouth. "We can't have that. I think it's best if you let me examine you".

Cameron broadened her accent and adopted an innocent, high pitched voice assumed by female leads in old movies. "Well, gee, if you think it's necessary, mister. I sure don't wanna get ill".

The diagnostician raised an eyebrow but he had to clear his throat before replying. "Damn, that's pretty sexy", he managed, hands at the hem of her top.

The woman grinned and laced her arms around his neck, back to her normal tone. "You think so? I was going for Scarlett O'Hara in _Gone With The Wind_ , even if she's actually a fairly strong character". House's eyes widened at this and he licked his lips instinctively.

Now it was Cameron's turn to raise an eyebrow. "You look like a dog waiting for dinnertime".

"I, er…I, ahem…", House began before clearing his throat again.

"What the hell is wrong with you?", she asked, slightly bemused.

"Nothing", he replied, looking down quickly.

"Nu-uh. No", she whispered, tilting his chin upwards. "I want to know".

"Why?".

"Because you have a weird look on your face, that's why. Tell me or you're sleeping on the floor". Cameron smirked and placed a hand on her hip.

The other sighed but eventually met her inquisitive gaze. "Fine. If I reveal something now you have to promise to keep it secret. Wilson can never know, OK?". House's eyes shone with an emotion she couldn't identify, which made her all the more curious. Cameron nodded, but House shook his head. "No, I want you to swear you'll keep this to yourself".

The brunette rolled her eyes. "I swear – whatever you say will go with me to the grave. Now spill".

He coughed again. "I, er…I, hmm. I had a massive crush on Vivien Leigh, who played Scarlett O'Hara in that movie. I mean like a _massive_ crush. I had posters, stickers, drawings, everything. I used to write stories about her, imagine up scenarios where we'd meet. I _loved_ her".

Cameron laughed softly. The emotion she'd detected in his eyes was embarrassment and it was completely adorable. In all the years they'd known each other, she'd never seen him this red-faced. "Really? But the film is, like, a billion years old".

"Yeah, but it was one of the only videos on the military base where my dad was stationed in Japan. So I watched it over and over and ended up dreaming about Scarlett. Even now…it, it…yeah".

"It what, House?", she asked.

"You know 'what'".

"Humour me".

"It…it makes me, er, hot under the collar", he finished.

"Huh. You don't seem very hot under the collar to me… _Rhett_ ". She ran an exploratory finger under the neckline of his t-shirt.

"Don't", he warned in a low tone. "I'm serious".

Cameron pretended not to hear him. She leant forwards, brushing his ear lightly, and whispered in her affected manner: "Great balls o' fire. Don't worry about me, Rhett Butler. I can shoot straight, s'long as I don't have'ta shoot far". She felt House tense beneath her hands as she desperately tried to think of more lines from the film.

"Did you not hear what I said, Cameron? I'm not kidding".

Instead, she whispered in his other ear. "Oh, if I just wasn't a lady, what wouldn't I tell that varmint?". The effect of her words was immediate. The nephrologist turned his head to the side and forced her lips to his, hands like a vice around her waist. Cameron made a surprised sound and attempted to kiss back, but he'd already moved from her mouth to her cheeks and her jaw, planting bites as he progressed, leaving vivid red marks in his wake. Meanwhile, both his hands dived under her shirt and unhooked her bra in a flash. "House…fuck…", she gasped, amazed at his vigour, trying at first to accommodate each of his movements but soon giving up and holding on for the ride. He was a man possessed as both hands gripped her butt, grinding her against himself.

The man pulled back for a second, his eyes dark. "Clothes".

Cameron swallowed. "Are you sure? I can take you in my mouth first if you-".

House seemed not to hear and he took matters into his own hands, yanking up her top and tossing it to the side, bra and all. The brunette scarcely had time to whip her hair from her eyes before House had met her in another hungry kiss. After just a few seconds, he travelled down her body, taking first one nipple then the other in his mouth, finesse forgotten. Cameron watched in astonishment as her lover consumed her flesh – she'd never seen him like this. As he focused on her chest, his hands were already at the button of her jeans. Without muttering a single word, he crouched, hooked his thumbs in the waistband and pulled them down roughly, the woman shimmying her hips to help him along. The navy blue panties were next; after that, her ankle socks. Within fifteen seconds, Cameron was completely naked.

House got to his feet, breathing steadily, his eyes roving up her body. The brunette looked flushed, and her mouth was open slightly, revealing her neat white teeth. At first she met his eyes, but the intensity of his expression caused her to look away momentarily. House used this opportunity to lean down and kiss her hard. One of his hands lost itself in her hair, which flowed past her shoulders, tangling around his fingers; the other ranged from her butt to her back, never still as they kissed. Cameron loved how uncontrolled he was. Like so much they had done away from the hospital, it seemed as if it was an insight into his personality just for her. "You're…still dressed", she murmured into his mouth, stroking his cheek as he continued his almost frenzied attentions, enjoying each forceful caress.

"Lie on the bed", he said finally, tilting her chin to the side with his thumb and nicking her jaw with his teeth. The immunologist did as asked, backpedalling, not breaking eye contact, watching as House removed his clothes. Soon, the man followed her onto the mattress, holding himself over the other and initiating another breathless kiss, Cameron's soft sighs studding the silence. His hand trailed over her breasts and stomach, feeling her skin which was hot to the touch. Only when his fingers reached their destination did House release a growl, and he entered her with a single fingertip, testing her arousal. She flexed around him, attempting to draw him in deeper. But he quickly withdrew, causing Cameron to nibble his lip in disappointment. "Why not? Please", she breathed, reaching between their bodies to grasp his length.

"No time". House sat back and ripped the condom from its packet. The foreplay was over.

Cameron propped up on her elbows to watch with shallow breaths as he adjusted his position, gripping her legs. Her gaze ran down his chest, taking in the veins that traced his shoulders and forearms, noting the fine hairs on his pectoral and abdominal muscles. The nephrologist was by no means bulky, but he possessed an athletic physique enhanced all the more by his height and seemingly permanent tan. Add to that the characteristically messy hair, two days' stubble, and piercing blue eyes, the man exuded an effortless sexuality that never ceased to excite her. Skipping down his torso, her attention alighted on the patch of scarred white skin from the bullet's entry. She wasn't religious, but the sight reminded her that every day with House was a blessing and to be treasured. "Do it, House", she whispered, resting her hands over his.

The man needed no second invitation, and he sank deep, feeling her tighten around him. Cameron gasped at the intrusion and dug her nails into the back of his hands, allowing him to build into a steady rhythm, focusing on feeling as much of him as she could. Though she was gradually growing accustomed to his size, that first entry always caused her breath to catch in her throat. House closed his eyes for a moment. "You're so tight…", he muttered, opening them again to look down into hers, which were hooded and dark as she met his gaze. House ran his hands up and down her smooth thighs, relishing the firmness of her skin.

Cameron's tongue darted out to moisten her lips. "Mmm", she whispered, "you need to…loosen me up. Are you…are you up to the job?".

House smiled mirthlessly and plunged as deep and hard as he could, drawing a surprised moan from the woman beneath him. "I am, but you'll need to keep a lid on it. We don't wanna wake our host".

"So demanding. I can be quiet, but…in return I want a good fucking". Cameron's head fell back and her hair fanned around the pillow as House grazed her inner walls.

"Now who's demanding?", he grinned, shallowing out a little.

" _You_ made me this way, House. Now get to it, soldier, or…I'll pull out my Scarlett impression again". With these words, she felt his hands tighten around her legs. Without saying anything further, but still maintaining eye contact, House increased the frequency and depth of each thrust, using his hold on Cameron's body as leverage. At first, he tried to keep her still, but as the minutes passed he released her legs and instead planted his hands on the bed either side, using the changed angle to brush against a different area. The woman hooked her ankles around his lower back and pulled him in even more. "It feels so good when you do that, House…".

Again, House said nothing, allowing the rhythm to build. After a few minutes, he tore his focus away from Cameron's green eyes to glance down her body, noting how her breasts quivered a little with each impact, their pink nipples standing up like pencil erasers. Taking his full weight on his left side, he brought his right hand up to caress first one peak then the other. Cameron mewled softly, and once again guided the movement of his fingers with her own, using him to touch herself as she wanted: "Like that, yes…yes. Don't be gentle…I can take it…". House maintained this position for as long as possible, delighting in the feeling. The woman fitted him like a glove, and he looked down, watching intently as she swallowed him up. It was as if her body was designed just for him. This thought caused a surge of pleasure.

Cameron felt him leap inside her, noticed also the sheen of sweat building on his forehead, and the veins in his biceps working overtime. She glanced up, observing the tight set of his mouth, and suddenly felt an urge to have him under her. House sensed her desire and buried himself to the hilt for a final time, eliciting a whimper from the other. He sank forwards, initiating a hungry kiss, their tongues jostling for position. "Ride me", he growled.

"I thought you'd never ask…", she replied into his ear, holding his rough cheek against her own.

The nephrologist scooted upwards and propped a couple of pillows against the headboard, leaning back a little as he watched Cameron getting into position. House held her firmly by the hips and took much of the weight in his arms. Though his leg strength would never be as it was before the infarction, his long reach and big hands made this position all the easier; plus it afforded him the opportunity simply to watch Cameron, to observe her body up close. The brunette reached down and grasped his length, teasing herself with it for a few moments. Then, she licked her lips, drawing out the tension even more. Only when she could feel House's fingers fidget against her waist, attempting to pull her downwards, did she finally sink into his lap. "Fuck…me…", she groaned, placing both palms on his chest and looking into his eyes.

"Good thinking", he replied, adjusting his grip so that his thumbs nearly met around her navel. Satisfied, he helped Cameron work into a consistently deep rhythm, each impact of their bodies firing his blood. He loved to watch how she took breaths through her mouth slightly opened; how every now and then her tongue flicked out from between regular white teeth. Most of all, he loved to watch the woman's hair. House had confessed to her several times that it caused the breath to catch in his throat at the best of times. But the more they had slept together, the more he was coming to recognise that the state of her hair was a reliable measure of the progress of their sexual encounters. When they'd entered the bedroom it had tumbled around her shoulders, the lamplight making it shimmer. But now, as she rode him hard, he noticed how tendrils of chocolate stuck to her flushed skin, how it seemed even to swallow the light it had previously reflected, such that it appeared darker. Wilder. House hands were splayed on her hips as she bounced freely in his lap.

As if discerning his thoughts, Cameron blew hair from her eyes and grinned down at her lover. "Your eyes…what are they thinking, huh?".

Suddenly House sat up, pulling the brunette tighter against him and stilling their movement for a moment, though remaining buried deep. "I can't get over your hair", he muttered into her mouth.

"You've already told me that this evening, Dr. House", she replied, cupping his face.

"I know. It's completely fucked. I've never had this problem before, not even with Scarlett O'Hara". House gave her a lopsided smile, before planting a succession of kisses on her jaw and neck, tasting the sweat beneath his tongue. "I think you should shave your head; help me overcome my affliction. For science".

Cameron laughed softly, running her fingers over his ears as she tilted back to give him access. "You don't need to overcome it; you need to _embrace_ it. And you need to keep telling me how hard it makes you".

"Can't you detect that already, though?", he murmured, licking down to the silver necklace.

The brunette wiggled her butt, seating him more firmly inside herself. "I've a fair idea. But it never hurts to be sure".

"Hmm", House rumbled, applying gentle pressure, so that she was once again lying on her back. His hands clasped her upper thighs. "It's not just your hair, though. It's your whole body. I don't know if I can reduce it to one thing". As he spoke, the diagnostician began to enter and withdraw in lazy motions.

"OK…", Cameron breathed. Remembering how she had aroused House during their first night together, she added: "Just reveal one thing you like about me, and that'll serve for the time being".

"Physical or non-physical?", he asked, increasing the pace of his thrusts gradually.

"Since you've already given me a physical one with my hair, I want, ahh, non-physical". The woman had to breath in sharply as the other finally bottomed out inside her. The sensation was incredible.

"Alright. I used to think you were innocent and naïve. But over these last few months…". House's words trailed off for a moment or two as he held himself over the other, his fists scrunching the sheets either side with each forceful entry. His eyes dipped downwards so as better to see their sex.

Cameron ran her hands up both his arms, feeling the muscles flex, drawing her fingernails across his skin. "Over these last few months….?", she prompted over the racing of her heart.

"…you've been forthright, confident, seductive. All in all, you've…been pretty great", he finished, breathing heavily, relishing the slap of their skin and the soft moans of the woman beneath him. Sweat pricked his forehead as he could feel himself losing control.

"How great? Scarlett great?". Cameron reached up and tilted his chin so that she could meet his gaze. At the same time, she hooked her legs tightly around his waist, pulling him in even harder.

House's eyes flickered, drinking in the sight of her flushed skin, and his mouth set in a tight line. "Fuck…", he whispered. _This woman is still pushing my buttons_.

"Answer me", she breathed, still holding his chin.

"I've…had Scarlett in my brain for a long time". The words emerged in a grimace as he drove into her relentlessly from an even steeper angle. The end was nigh as muscle fatigue radiated through his body, and his heart began to race uncontrollably.

Cameron looked up from under hooded lashes, and the hand which had been on his arm travelled down to toy with her clit. Meanwhile, she began to flex herself against his length, wanting him to climax first. "Forget her. Have me…unnh…in your brain instead; let me…be your fantasy. I'll take care of you, House". With these words reverberating through his mind, House toppled over the edge, and he lost himself in exquisite release, sinking forwards as his arms finally buckled. The brunette nicked his shoulder with her teeth as she followed close behind, hugging him tightly to herself as she rode the wave, mouth open in a wordless groan.

The two spent a few moments regathering their breath before the woman turned to the side and whispered in his ear: "Scarlett or Cameron?".

"I'd have to say…Cameron", he muttered into the pillow.

"Good boy", she replied, patting the back of his head softly.

"You win this round, but I'll be back". House kissed her cheek before rolling away to retrieve the glass of water on the bedside table.

Cameron chuckled. "I'm counting on it, my man. I'm counting on it".


	61. Bro code

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I quite enjoyed the politicking around Vogler in season 1, especially how he impacted House's team and the hospital as a whole, and I felt that the series never really explained properly how PPTH dealt with the financial implications of his leaving. To that end, I'm making up a new character to fill that void. Most likely he'll be lurking in the background and won't shape the story in any meaningful way. As previously stated, I have little interest in introducing a swathe of my own creations, and the few there are serve only for variety. On that note, Mathilde pops up again here, and she's in the same mould. The main focus will always be the original cast because they're my favourites (Taub gets an honourable mention. That guy was a riot). 

Wilson wandered through the double doors of the hospital in a buoyant mood, and he couldn't quite put his finger on why. The previous evening had been enjoyable, yes, but he saw House every day, and that in and of itself was rarely enough to make him any happier than otherwise. In fact, it had a number of times in the past made him distinctly _un_ happy. No, there must be another reason.

As the oncologist made his way over to the sign-in sheet, he surmised that his happiness stemmed more from the fact that _House_ was too. In all the years they'd known each other, the diagnostician had been truly content for about four or five of these, when Stacy had been on the scene. But last night, the man had seemed genuinely satisfied. At peace with himself. Even though Wilson would admit to harbouring just a little bit of jealousy, it was a small price to pay for House's well-being. The only concern was the usual one – by tying his happiness to a woman, House was, as ever, putting all his eggs in one basket. Wilson had asked the question of Cameron last night but it was one to ask the nephrologist as well: things are great now, but what if it ends in the future? How will you be _then_? These were questions that may need answers at some point. Not now, though. Now, things were going swimmingly.

"Dr. Wilson? Sorry, I hope I didn't disturb you. You were a million miles away!", came a female voice to his left.

The man looked up and smiled. _Act cool_. "Hello, Mathilde. I've told you: first names are absolutely fine".

"Yes, well, I didn't want to assume anything. How've you been?". The nurse leant against the counter and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. _Say something normal, James_.

"Pretty good, thanks for asking. You know how it is: as soon as they change the law, House and I will marry immediately". _That wasn't normal, moron_.

"Huh. I thought same-sex marriage was already legal in New Jersey?". Mathilde tapped her chin thoughtfully.

"Yeah, no, it was a…never mind. I'm not gay, though", said Wilson quickly, cringing internally. _You are literally the worst_. The receptionist who had been sorting papers at the computer terminal made herself scarce. Awkwardness didn't need company.

"Relax. I'm yanking your chain, James. You're not the only one around here who can crack jokes, y'know", she replied, folding her arms. _I wish you'd yank **my** chain_.

The oncologist exhaled. "Phew. And there was me thinking it'd be awkward". _Ugh, she really is completely gorgeous_.

"Listen, I just wanted to say sorry for sort of leaving you in the lurch a while back. I've since been told that Dr. House is…a rather strange man. And I understand that he was scoring points by trying to sabotage your efforts with me".

"No problem at all. Dr. House _is_ a strange man", Wilson agreed, meeting her bright blue eyes and momentarily forgetting how to speak. He cleared his throat. "Just to confirm: you're stating for the record that I _was_ making an effort with you?".

"Absolutely", she nodded. "I thought you did pretty well. Really put in the legwork. Women appreciate that. I'm sorry that I let Dr. House scare me off, but he seemed genuine and I just suddenly felt a bit overwhelmed. I hope you can forgive me". Mathilde smiled again. _I forgive you. I love you_.

"Please, there's nothing to forgive. How are you, anyway?". Wilson moved towards the elevator and Mathilde fell into step beside him.

"I'm well. Really enjoyed my first few months here professionally speaking. Personally, it's been a bit more hit and miss…but hey, that's not your problem". The woman put on a brave face, but Wilson's inner compass was spinning. He really hated seeing a female in pain; it just didn't sit right. Still, it wouldn't be wise to get involved with Mathilde, just a couple of weeks after she'd split with Chase. Some sort of bro code covered that, surely. But then again, he thought, a friendly coffee couldn't hurt. It didn't have to lead to anything, and it might help eradicate the kernel of jealousy he felt towards House and Cameron.

"Sorry to hear that. If you'd like, we can grab a coffee later? I've got a gap mid-morning which I normally spend on admin stuff but I don't mind making room for you".

"That sounds lovely. Cafeteria at half ten?".

"Great. See you then!". The two made their farewells and headed off, Mathilde to the clinic and Wilson to the elevators. As he turned away, though, he noticed the prospective donor leave Cuddy's office, cross the lobby, and make his way out of the hospital. Rather than head up to his own floor, the oncologist took a diversion and knocked on her door himself, entering at her call.

The Dean looked up and smiled. "Morning. For a second I thought Oscar had forgotten something".

"Oscar, eh? First name terms already. Interesting…", mused Wilson, sinking into the chair opposite the desk.

The woman shrugged. "He insisted. A genuine guy. For the life of me, I was convinced someone that rich must have skeletons in the closet. But it seems like he is as good as he looks. In the business sense, of course". Wilson folded his arms and smirked, which prompted an eye roll from his boss: "oh, for God's sake; he must be approaching sixty. Not _everything_ is about sex, you know".

"Trust me", he scoffed, "when you're going through a dry patch and your best friend is getting it on in the other room, everything really is about sex".

Cuddy laughed. "Point taken. Did it go well? Sorry I couldn't make it. I'd have liked to see Hameron in the flesh, as it were".

The oncologist raised an eyebrow at the phrasing but neglected to mention how House had broadcast his preference for threesomes last night – it was a bit early in the morning for that stuff. "Well, I'll tell you all about it if you share with me how it went with _Oscar_ ". The board meeting he'd attended on Monday had been productive, but as far as he was aware the hospital hadn't yet committed to accepting the offer of sponsorship. Cuddy was right to be cautious but the guy really did appear above board. Unlike Vogler, Oscar Townsend hadn't cited a personal sob story (disguising corporate piracy) as motivation. Instead, the man had seen the work PPTH was doing, seen its powerful female boss and its genius Head of Diagnostics, read about the fallout from Vogler, and wanted to help.

"It's a done deal, though the lawyers still need to sign off on the paperwork. The arrangement he offered was just too good to pass up: a light touch, solid funding, no oversight beyond that we already have and, in return, he gets a non-voting seat on the board. I'll be taking him on a tour tomorrow morning". Cuddy took a sip of her coffee before glancing at her screen.

"Does House know?", he asked.

"Nope! It'll be a surprise for him". Both friends sat back and smiled, aware that the diagnostician wasn't a fan of change.

"Wish I could be there but, alas, I have those interviews booked for tomorrow. The ones I told you about last week?".

The Dean nodded. "Excellent. Send me an email to let me know how it goes?".

"Will do. You wanna hear about last night then? It was pretty fun".

"Absolutely. I've got ten minutes before my next meeting. Hit me with it".

* * *

Chase and Foreman were in Diagnostics working on their papers for the conference while they waited on their colleagues' arrival. Since they didn't have a case at the moment, House could be expected around mid-morning, probably later. Cameron was usually the first in, though she wasn't technically late even now. Foreman returned from the coffee machine to sit at the conference table. "I'm thinking of writing up the genetic variegate porphyria case we had a while back. Only thing is I dunno if I can manage it all on such short notice. How'd you fancy being a co-author with me?".

Chase leant back in his chair and chewed the end of his pen. Although he had been tossing a few ideas around, none of them had stuck. "That's an option. How would you want to split it? Theoretical/practical?".

The neurologist nodded. "Sounds fine to me. Have you been to the UK before then?".

"Of course. We have the queen on our money so it's basically a requirement. You?".

"Nope. I'm quite looking forward to it, actually. Reckon I'll be skipping a fair slice of the conference just to see the sights".

"Good call. Fair warning though, the weather is terrible. Like, really bad. I've been three times…non-stop rain". Chase drained his coffee and went for a refill – there was room for another cup before clinic duty.

"Noted". Foreman folded his arms and added conversationally: "we've not spoken about the, ah, romantic development that has occurred in the office this week. You wanna discuss it, or…?". The sentence hung in the air as Chase returned once more to the table.

"Why are you always so keen to discuss others' love lives, mate?", the intensivist returned testily. It was bad enough that House and Cameron were together; even worse that Foreman insisted on bringing it up at every opportunity. If he didn't know better, he'd think it a targeted provocation.

"I'm just looking out for the harmony of this office, that's all". And this was the complete truth. As he had told Cameron recently, Foreman considered himself a friend to both fellows. More than this, he had always tried to keep himself apart from the fray. When House had been forced by Vogler to fire one of them, the former attempted to play them off against each other, hoping to make his job easier. Cameron and Chase had got caught up in the rough and tumble, placing and avoiding blame. But _he_ had tried to rise above it, favouring no side in particular. The same principle was in play here. Even if Chase didn't appreciate it.

"Yeah, well, it's not your responsibility. We get paid the same, y'know".

"Fine, forget I asked".

The Australian sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "No, I'm sorry. I know you're just looking out for me. To answer your question, I'm good. I really do want Cameron to be happy. I wasn't lying about that. I wish it was with me, but if it's with House I'm not going to cry myself to sleep".

"Fair enough. Who knows, maybe they won't last long, anyway. Pretty sure House is not a long-term relationship kinda guy". Foreman was about to turn his attention to the laptop but a strange look had passed over his friend's face. "You OK?".

"If they do break up, and I decide to ask Cameron out, I'm invoking the bro code: I don't want you sticking your beak in; I don't want you saying it's too soon; I don't want you 'advising' me not to; I don't want you informing House. It'll be between me and her. Got it?". Chase's voice was stern.

The neurologist held his hands up. "Alright. If that situation comes to pass, I won't get involved. Except to ask Cameron out myself".

"Bugger off", he retorted, to Foreman's laughter.


	62. Dropping the bomb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've just uploaded a bunch of chapters, so if you read this story by just flicking to the most recent upload, you may want to doublecheck you've read the previous handful.
> 
> I ripped the medical terminology from an actual nephrology article (sad, I know). If by some miracle the authors read this then I apologise for my plagiarism. Cameron reveals a bit of jealousy and paranoia in the series after she marries Chase and reckons he's having an affair, and it's already popped up in this story with Cuddy. I'm reproducing a taster of that here. Just thinking of the Chase/Cameron relationship arc from seasons 4-6 makes me shudder. 

The diagnosticians were stood around House's computer Friday morning examining the conference schedule, which he'd pulled up on the screen. "It looks like we're top billing for the Saturday. Dammit, just before the dinner, too. No way am I gonna sit through that fielding questions from morons".

"It's almost like the organisers have planned it _so_ you can answer questions", muttered Foreman over his shoulder.

"Yeah, well", said House, "I'm not doing what the white man says. Reckon I'll take a leaf out of your book and fight the power. Are you with me, homie? As long as we stay united we can't be beaten".

"You can do what you like, but I plan on networking". The neurologist took control of the mouse and scrolled through the contributors. "Look, there's a pretty good crowd in attendance: Weiss from Penn, Yuell from Jefferson…".

Chase glanced through the list. "Huh, your best buddy is going as well. What was his name again? The guy who popped up when we treated the jazz trumpeter a couple of years back".

Foreman threw his colleague an arch look. "You know his name, otherwise you wouldn't have recognised it".

" _Marty_ Hamilton. Ugh, that guy was insufferable…kept calling me Greg". House's gaze swept over his fellows, who were all staring at him. "What?".

"You think _he_ was insufferable? Interesting…", Cameron wondered out loud, tapping the envelope she'd been in the middle of opening to her lips.

House snorted. "Stick to the filing, sweetheart; let us men do the doctoring".

The brunette grinned. "It's a good thing we're together, else I could have you done for sexism. And then where would you be, eh? You old dinosaur".

"You can _do_ me any time, doll", he retorted in his patented Alabama drawl, folding his arms and leaning so far back in the chair that her face was upside down as he met her twinkling eyes.

But before Cameron could reply, Foreman interjected: "Oi. What did I say about keeping it professional while Chase and I are around? We don't wanna hear that". The Australian's expression, which had been jovial at the mention of Marty Hamilton, suddenly darkened, though none of his colleagues were in a position to see it. It didn't feel good to be constantly reminded that the woman he desired was with another man. Not good at all.

"Fine. How are you getting on with your papers? Cameron's doing Sjögren's syndrome". House picked up the oversized tennis ball and started tossing it from hand to hand.

"We're collaborating. Porphyria", muttered Chase, still trying to restore his good mood.

"Sweet. Looks like it's gonna be guys vs. girl then. My money's on Cameron. She's had that paper up her sleeve for months".

"It'll be decent, don't worry. What're you presenting on?", asked Foreman. The other two fellows looked down at their boss in the chair, curious for his answer. Diagnostics was necessarily collaborative so they rarely got the opportunity to witness House flying solo. Unencumbered by his staff, there was no telling what his genius intellect would spit out. Depending on how much effort he wanted to expend, his paper would fall somewhere between merely outstanding and ground-breaking. The man didn't do mediocre.

"Euthanasia", he replied.

"Can you give us a sneak peek?", Cameron asked. The immunologist had long intended to take a tour of House's place and examine his study and writing desk, to try and glean clues regarding the working of his mind. As she had already confessed to him, it was his brain that most turned her on. But, for better or for worse, the opportunity to scratch this itch hadn't yet arisen. She silently promised herself that, one of these days, she was _not_ going to stampede straight to his bed but rather, if he was OK with it, take time to explore her partner's inner sanctum.

"I could. But I won't", smirked House, turning to face her properly now, repeating a phrase whose significance only Cameron knew. She smiled back, momentarily losing herself in his eyes. _The day those blue orbs stop enchanting me is the day I die_. This thought came on suddenly, and she had to clear her throat, pretending to stifle a cough.

"Will we at least get to read it?", asked Chase, pleased to shift the conversation to work again.

"Hmm, maybe", mused the diagnostician, spinning back to the screen. "Tell you what: if you people fulfil my clinic quota next week, I'll send you a section. Best I can do".

"Fine. But it can't be just the bibliography", demanded Chase.

"Would I do that to you? Gregory House always fights fair. Well, nearly always". He clasped his hands behind his head.

The door to the office opened and Cuddy walked in, trailed by a tall, thin, middle-aged man in a suit and tie and prematurely grey hair, and a youngish woman, whose vivid red locks were at odds with the severe cut of her business suit. "And these", the administrator announced, gesturing towards the four doctors who were still gathered around the computer screen, "are our diagnosticians".

"Oh God", said House, jolting forwards and moving the mouse hurriedly. "I know this looks compromising, but it's not what you think. We were just watching porn-".

"- _anyway_ ", interjected the Dean quickly with a warning glare at her employee, "here we have Doctors Eric Foreman, Robert Chase and Allison Cameron, and the wit in the chair is Gregory House. He runs the department, somehow".

"The secret is to shred all the paperwork that comes your way and then sell it to wedding vendors as confetti-", began House, before once again being interrupted by his boss.

"-yes, so, everyone, this is Oscar Townsend and his assistant Fiona. Oscar's kindly agreed to partner the hospital for the next few months with a potential for further co-operation down the line if we think the relationship's working", finished Cuddy.

Townsend at once ambled forwards and shook the fellows' hands. When he reached House, he looked down and smiled, moving to do the same. "Ah, Dr. House. Absolute pleasure to meet you. I've heard your name around, that's for sure".

For a split second it seemed as if the Head of Diagnostics would leave the other hanging, but House caught sight of Cuddy's expression and decided to play along. The pair shook hands firmly. "Most people have", remarked the nephrologist, "it's also a noun".

The new sponsor guffawed so heartily it took everyone by surprise that this slight and distinguished-looking individual could possess such a booming laugh. "A sense of humour is precious; really helps defuse awkwardness, don't you think? It's one of the first things I look for in new colleagues".

"So you're Vogler 2.0", said House, finally getting up from the desk. "You're a lot thinner than he was".

"Yes. Heart scare a couple of years back-".

"-he lost _fifty_ pounds!", exclaimed Fiona proudly, who had remained standing next to Cuddy.

Townsend looked a little sheepish. "Yep. It's all grilled food and standing desks now. Nightmare. Sorry, this is Fiona. As Dr. Cuddy mentioned, she's my assistant. And my daughter".

The red-haired woman stepped forward and finally shook hands. "Hi. Yep, thirty-five years old and still working for my father. It's not the best look, I know, but what can you do?". When she reached House, Fiona's clasp lingered slightly longer than necessary, and she flashed him a radiant smile. "We're big fans. I read your paper on diuretic resistance in cardio-nephrology and was completely blown away. How did you overcome the pathophysiological mechanisms of fluid and sodium retention?". Cameron, who had been observing behind House's right shoulder, folded her arms tightly across her chest and tried not to glare at the other woman.

House tilted his head. "I kept a close eye on the sodium and chloride depletions in each subject and accounted for the bias".

"Fiona has an interest in medicine", explained Townsend with a wink. "But I managed to convince her that her future lay at the company. That took some work, let me tell you. Anyway, you're probably very busy, and we have a tour to finish. Where are we off to next?", he asked of Cuddy.

The Dean, who had been watching the exchange with a mixture of interest and apprehension, visibly relaxed. "Let's see…radiology, I think".

"Excellent. Thanks for your time, doctors. Lisa's already told me you do brilliant work, and it's good to put faces to names. You're unlikely to see much of me, though if our paths do cross, feel free to say hello to my daughter or me. We're very friendly people, aren't we, Fi?".

The woman grinned. "We sure are, especially to first rate professionals such as yourselves". Although she addressed the room, her gaze was fixed firmly on the department head. The trio moved to the door, but not before Fiona had turned back, flicking her hair airily: "Dr. House? If you're working on anything else at the moment, I'd love to hear about it sometime over coffee, or maybe read an advance copy ahead of publication. Just if you're able. Thanks!". With a final wave, the Townsends left the room, followed by a slightly nonplussed Dean, who gave an apologetic shrug as the door clanged shut.

No one said anything for a few moments, until Chase piped up: "they were…interesting. Not really what I was expecting after Vogler".

"Yeah. But there's something going on there – no way can you be that nice and that successful at business. What do you think, House?", asked Foreman.

The diagnostician had been lost in his own thoughts and jerked back to reality. "I think that they're bureaucrats. And bureaucrats are all the same. I also think you guys need to buzz off and let me watch _Prescription Passion_. Brock's about to find out that the twins aren't his. My bet's on Julio. I always knew Marie was a skank". When no one moved, he added: "go. Don't you guys have papers to write?".

* * *

House called 'come in' without looking away from the monitor. "I thought I told you that knocking wasn't required".

Cameron walked over to sit in the facing chair and she laced her hands together on the desk. "Forgive my error, Dr. House", she commented shortly.

The nephrologist glanced in the woman's direction, noting the tone, before continuing his typing. "Rounds go OK?".

"Yes", she replied. Cameron looked into her lap then ran a hand through her hair, as if on the point of adding more, before deciding against it.

"You alright?".

"Yes", she repeated.

House finally finished his task and turned to face the other, giving her his full attention. "What's going on?", he asked.

"Well, Foreman and I got delayed helping Roberts out in paediatrics, so we didn't manage to complete all the clinic-".

"-not what I meant", he interrupted, the flicker of a smile on his lips.

The brunette's eyes darted to the side and then down to her hands which still rested on the wood. It was unlike her not to meet his gaze. Even before they got together, the one thing he could count on was that she would never look away. "Nothing's going on; I'm fine".

"You have many talents, Cameron, but lying isn't one of them. You came here for a reason. Don't make me regurgitate what you told me in this office just three nights ago regarding truth-telling. It goes both ways".

Cameron sighed. "It's…it's awkward for me to confess this to you".

House leant forwards in his chair, the movement almost forcing her to make eye contact. "There is no awkwardness. It's you and me; no one else is here. Now speak. Something's on your mind and I want to know what it is".

Again she sighed, looking down once more. "That…that woman, Fiona, was flirting with you earlier…I didn't like it". The man let a breath out through his noise and when she glanced up she could see him smiling, which provoked a heated reaction. "This _isn't_ funny, House. I'm not messing around".

House composed his features. "Maybe she was just interested in the medicine?".

"No, she was _flirting_ with you, and I was right there".

"In fairness, there was no way she could know we were together. And let's face it, I'm a prime slab of rump steak".

The diagnostician's apparent levity caused Cameron's anger to rise, and she got to her feet suddenly. "Why are you defending her? And why are you making this is into a big joke?". The brunette felt hoodwinked. House had convinced her to open up, but rather than take her concerns seriously, he was reducing them to comedy material.

"And why are you turning this into an issue when it's not?", he replied calmly.

"It _is_ an issue to me, House", she retorted, his composure serving only to increase her agitation. Though they had joked about his attraction to other people, especially recent patients, it had always been tongue-in-cheek, and she'd not once felt uncomfortable or threatened. It had always been abstract. But now that somebody had actually broadcast their interest in _him_ , it caused her insecurity to bubble up again.

"Why?".

"Are you being intentionally dense? Do I have to spell it out?".

"That would be helpful, yes". Still there was a trace of a smile as he sat back.

Cameron's voice was loud now. "Because she _likes_ you, House. And I'm afraid that she'll…that she'll, I don't know, make a move or something. The way she just swans in here talking about nephrology hoping to sweep you off your feet, telling you what a big fan she is. Ugh. I _don't_ like it!". Her hands were clenched into fists at her side and she could feel the heat in her cheeks. She hated that she felt jealous; she hated even more that House seemed not to understand. For just the second time since they had become an item she was genuinely angry with him.

The diagnostician got up from his chair and ambled round to sit on the corner of the desk. "Well, you don't need to worry. Nothing's gonna happen". The grin which had been threatening for the last ten minutes finally materialised.

Cameron exploded. "Will you stop fucking _smiling_?! It's not funny, and I know how women think. She'll drop little hints, pop in for chats, and before you know it-".

"-nothing's going to happen, Cameron, because I'm in love with you", interjected House softly.


	63. We belong together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is taken from the song to Toy Story 3 by Randy Newman. Also, a line from Friends appears somewhere in this entry. In case you haven't noticed, I like Friends.

Cameron had her hands on hips, midway through a tirade. But House's words caught her completely off-guard. "I-, _what_?".

House grinned at her from his perch on the desk corner. Now that he'd got it out in the open it felt like a weight had been lifted. "I love you, Cameron", he repeated, arms folded.

The brunette's mouth opened then closed a couple of times, a flood of emotions rolling around her mind as she attempted first to comprehend what House had said and then to maintain the crux of the complaint which had brought her up here in the first place. The whole exercise was proving all the more challenging given that the other was doing nothing except beaming back at her. "I'm, you can't…", she spluttered, "that's not-, I'm still…angry. You can't just say…that and…change the subject", she finished lamely. The nephrologist got up and walked towards her, blue eyes aflame. "I'm still angry", she repeated, meeting his gaze, though in truth her fury had evaporated.

"Yes, you look it; incandescent with rage, actually", House agreed. "But if it's all the same to you, I'll kiss you now, accepting that you are angry but really hoping that it'll end this debate". He walked up to the other and placed both hands on her cheeks, tilting her face upwards gently. "Is that OK, Dr. Angry?", he asked, lopsided grin still plastered on his features.

"You are such an idiot", Cameron muttered into his mouth, breathing in the scent she had come to know so well, placing her own hands over his as they held her. For so long she had dreamt of this moment, had wondered how it would feel and where it would happen, if it did. This office was probably a fitting backdrop – the place they had spent so much time as colleagues; the place things had first changed between them. Cameron regarded House's office as a second home. Not just because she worked unsociably long hours within these walls, but also because it was, now, the place she looked to for comfort. Sometimes she would glimpse through the glass House working at his desk, or playing his Gameboy, or watching television, and it would bring her a measure of comfort, simply knowing that he was close.

House pulled back. "You're crying", he observed, rubbing a tear away with his thumb. "Is my kissing really that bad?".

Cameron half-laughed half-coughed as she wiped her eyes roughly with the back of her hand. "I'm not crying. I just have, er, something irritating my contact lenses".

"Uhuh", he replied, not convinced. "So what's your response?".

"My response to what?". The last few minutes had passed by in a whirlwind and she was struggling to process everything.

The diagnostician fidgeted a little. "My, er, declaration a moment ago".

"Ah. That. Yes, it was highly effective, with significant emotional impact. You did well. I wasn't expecting it, and I'm glad it happened here. Smart play also to defuse the situation. The old two birds with one stone tactic. All in all, top marks", she stated, pulling back a touch to see his face.

"Yeah, but…what's your _response_? Do you, er, feel similarly?". House's eyes flashed with uncertainty; so much so that Cameron fixed him with a strange look. "That's a strange look", he added, confused.

The brunette tilted her head. "Umm, are you kidding, or…?".

"Huh? I'm not kidding. I really do…", he answered, beginning to fidget even more. For a second, he thought he'd made a catastrophic mistake, and his mind frantically ran through various retractions. "I mean, it's OK if you don't…absolutely no pressure. We can just be friends if you, ah, want".

"Sorry, House, just to clarify a couple of things: first of all, we are _never_ going to be 'just friends'. If this ends at some point in the future, and you decide that we can't be together, I ain't gonna be calling in for coffee and cake. Second of all, and I can't believe I need to say this, but you're aware that I've been in love with you for like two years, right?", she queried in a tone of disbelief, both hands palm down on his shirt.

"Err, what? Really? No, I just…you only said you _liked_ me when I confronted you in the lab a few months back".

"I said I liked you a lot", Cameron corrected. "If you cast your mind back to our head to head in _this_ office, you'll also remember that I said we belonged together. And before even that, outside Mark Warner's hospital room, I _explicitly_ mentioned love to you. Pretty big hints regarding how I felt, no?".

"No, but-, I thought you were…I mean, I didn't know you felt like that; that strongly, I mean". Just like his girlfriend earlier, House was struggling to process developments.

The immunologist shook her head in mock despair. "How can you be so good at reading people and so crap at reading me? I'm really not that sophisticated; just a normal Chicago girl".

House shrugged. "I've always struggled to read you, Cameron". The woman smiled faintly as she recalled thinking exactly this at her dining table while drinking hot chocolate. She was, it seemed, House's blind spot. "And you're _not_ normal", he added, kissing her nose, which she wrinkled predictably against the scratchiness of his stubble. "You've also not told me your response, even now".

Cameron nodded and took both his hands, holding them firmly against her heart. "You're right", she whispered, tilting her lips upwards. "I love you too, Gregory House, more than anything, and I'm beyond ecstatic that you feel as you do. I've wanted this for a long time. Does that satisfy you? Is that clear enough?".

"Yes, that's satisfactory. Thanks for sorting out the confusion", he returned softly.

"Good". The pair kissed for a few moments, before sharing a deep hug, Cameron breathing into his shirt, purring contentedly.

"Hey, Cameron?", he whispered into her hair.

"Mmm?".

"Have you ever been with a woman?".

The brunette pulled back and rested her fists against his chest. "House, what is the _matter_ with you?".

"Huh", murmured the other, thinking, "so there really is no good time to ask that question…".

"There really isn't", she agreed with a chuckle. "What time is it, anyway?".

"Must be close to seven", he replied.

"You fancy grabbing some dinner then heading back to yours?". Although Cameron still had designs on exploring his apartment, that could wait until tomorrow. Right now she craved his bed.

House thought about it, tugging her ears playfully. "We could, although…did you bring your winter coat and gloves to work today?".

"Of course. We Illinoisans are always prepared for the cold. I'd need to retrieve my stuff from the locker room, though. What're you thinking?", she smiled, observing his eyes glaze as he thought.

"How'd you fancy a rooftop tipple? Looks to be a pretty clear night – might be able to see some stars".

"Hmm. Go on, then". With a final peck on the lips, Cameron disentangled herself from his arms and made for the door. "See you up there in five?".

"Make it ten. I need to collect a few things".

* * *

Cameron opened the fire escape and walked out onto the roof. November was wearing on, and the air carried a chill. "House?", she called out.

Just ahead, she saw a phone light filter through the gloom. "Je suis ici, ma belle. Suivez la lumière et le son de ma voix. Le chemin est libre". [I'm over here, beautiful. Follow the light and the sound of my voice. The way is clear].

Cameron shook her head, desperately trying to think back to high school French. "Je préfère l'anglais. Mon français, er, craint!" [I prefer English. My French sucks!].

The immunologist could hear House chuckle before he replied: "but French is the language of love, and isn't Chicago basically Canada, anyway?".

She finally reached him by the wide railings which ran along the periphery. "Not quite. Hi", she said, kissing him before taking out her phone and turning on the torch, which she placed next to his on a nearby metal bollard. Though not pitch black, they definitely needed artificial illumination. House produced a bottle of whiskey and he poured her a generous measure. The pair clinked glasses and took a sip. "Where did you get this on such short notice?".

"I've got scotch stashed all over the place. But this gem lives behind the lupus textbook. Y'know, 'cos it's-".

"-never lupus", she finished.

House only smiled, and the pair lapsed into silence. From this vantage point atop the main hub, they could see all across the hospital grounds. Since PPTH was a teaching establishment, it housed Princeton University medical school, which comprised a cluster of buildings to the west; and to the east lay an independent research institution with ties to both Princeton and Yale. The area was large, and it seemed even more so due to the oases of green that filled their sightline. The network of roads and by-ways were lined with trees, their branches almost bare as they swayed in the late autumn breeze, and the numerous small ponds glittered in the middle distance. Even in the twilight, or maybe because of it, the scene was an arresting one. House reached down and took Cameron's gloved hand in his own.

The brunette leant against his shoulder. "It's very beautiful", she murmured, as if detecting his thoughts.

"It is", he grunted, taking another sip of whiskey.

"I don't suppose you had any food hidden behind that lupus textbook, too?", she whispered hopefully. She'd not eaten anything since lunch, and alcohol always made her hungry.

"It's your lucky day, Camster". House reached down and retrieved a huge party bag of Doritos from the rucksack by his feet. At her inquisitive glance he shrugged: "vegetative state guy. He's the only one I know who'll never tap into my snack supply".

At first he tried to liberate his left hand from her grip, but she held on tight. "I'm not letting you go, House. You'll have to improvise". The diagnostician sighed, but nevertheless tore open the packet with his teeth and spare hand. Cameron took a fistful for herself before looking to the man at her side, who was having difficulty figuring out how to get the crisps into his face, given that he also needed to hold the bag. "Would you like a hand, hun?", she asked pleasantly.

"I would like _my_ hand. And I'm not convinced 'hun' works. Just putting that out there". House considered tipping the whole thing into his mouth. _Desperate times_.

The immunologist chewed thoughtfully for a few seconds. "Yes, you're probably right. But you didn't like 'darling' either, so you're not really making it easy for me, babe".

House exhaled. "Yep, I see what you did there. Very good. The Chicago comedy circuit lost a shining light when you decided on medicine, Cameron".

"We'll keep brainstorming ideas, hey? No need to decide right now, sweetheart. Here…". Cameron reached in for another fistful and began to feed him Doritos. The lack of light meant that every now and then one hit him in the eye or missed all together and tumbled to the concrete. "This is like when we had cotton candy at monster trucks", she giggled.

"That was a fun one", he muttered in between crunches.

"Mmm. I've often wondered how significant that evening was for you". She glanced sidelong at him through the gloom.

"Well, now, let's not ruin a lovely night out by getting personal", he replied, imitating his own words from the time.

Cameron smiled. "I hate to break it to you, lover boy, but I fear we're somewhat past that stage".

House grunted, though his next words were far-off, as if unnerved at how much he was willing to confide. "It was significant. I'd had thoughts about you before that, not least when we were treating that lacrosse guy, but it was the first time I properly began harbouring…deeper feelings for a member of my staff".

"So you always intended on asking me, sort of like a date?", queried the brunette, who could remember explaining it away to Chase as simply down to the fact that House had seen her first.

"Well, Wilson was my first choice. You were a close second".

Cameron stroked his arm and leant against it again. "I don't mind being a close second to Wilson". As she had promised herself recently, she would never look to supplant the oncologist as the prime focus of House's affection.

"What about you? Was it significant?".

"Yep". The ease with which she uttered the word surprised Cameron. "Monster trucks was the start of my journey. I'd always had a soft spot for your weird unconventionality, of course, but I suppose that evening crystallised my attraction". When they had been walking together that night a couple had crossed their path completely lovestruck; seeing this, images of being with House formed in her brain. Those mental pictures had always failed to dissipate, no matter how much she had tried to deny her feelings through the dark days, when it seemed House would never accept a relationship.

The diagnostician inclined his head towards the other in the darkness. "You mentioned in the office that you've waited two years. Have you really had the hots for me that long?".

"Yes". This straight-forward affirmation hung in the air between them, though House found its finality strangely comforting. After all, it was Cameron's certainty in the rightness of this situation that most appealed to him and served to soften his own misgivings which inevitably centred on the age gap, his position of power, and his disability.

"That must've been hard for you, to deal with that".

The brunette shrugged. "I guess. Though as I told you a while back, I knew you'd reach the right decision eventually".

"Why's that?".

Cameron nudged his hip. "Because I'm hot and smart? And because", she added in a more serious tone, "I knew you liked me. I knew that your beautiful brain would see what was right in front of your face: a woman just waiting for you to reach out, hug her to yourself, and allow her to love you for the man you are".

" _Notting Hill_?", asked House, munching on another Dorito.

"Allison Cameron. Though I'll admit it sounded less cheesy in my head", she replied with a grin. House only scoffed, pulling her closer. "How many languages do you speak?", she asked suddenly, remembering his perfectly accented French from earlier.

"A few of the European ones, Mandarin, Japanese, and a bit of Arabic and Hindi. The last three are pretty rusty since I've not needed them in a while".

"And Latin", Cameron added.

"Yeah, but it's not a spoken language and you asked how many I could speak".

"That's amazing". Her partner's capacity for knowledge was inspiring and not a little sexy.

House shrugged. "Once you have a couple down, it becomes easier to pick up more. Languages are all related, and a lot of them share the same structures".

"So what you're saying is that the Tower of Babel story in the Bible is actually historically accurate? Interesting…", she murmured, popping a few more crisps into his mouth and taking the bag.

The diagnostician reached across with his freed right hand and grabbed a handful of her hair, playfully whipping her in the face with it. "For an atheist, you sure do talk a lot about religion".

The brunette giggled, screwing her eyes shut against the 'torture'. "I just do it to annoy you. Plus, the topic is pretty fascinating".

"I remember when you approached me in the clinic during Vogler and engaged me on the subject of God. Actually, I think you called _me_ God". House had agreed to peddle one of the man's drugs in exchange for being allowed to keep his team. The immunologist had conveyed her appreciation in weirdly religious terms and surprised him with the nuance of her thinking.

For the first time since coming up to the roof, Cameron turned fully towards the other. "There is no God. And even if there is, you're not him. Or her. You're Greg House. And you're _mine_ ".

"Amen", breathed House, initiating a tender kiss, before once again returning to face out onto the world, the distant peal of sirens piercing the air. The pair remained this way for some time, hands entwined, watching as true darkness blanketed the grounds and the streetlamps shimmered far below.


	64. Carrot and stick

The following Monday House returned from lunch with Wilson to see Cuddy sitting in his chair playing with his balls. The Dean glanced up and smiled. "I never got why you keep these things here".

"Saves me carrying them around in a wheelbarrow. Move", said House. Cuddy only raised an eyebrow, so he added: "…boss?", which did finally cause her to switch to the chair facing the desk. The diagnostician sat down and spent some time carefully replacing the balls until they were exactly right. "What can I do for you, Lisa?", he asked cheerily, suitably satisfied with their position.

"Since when have you called me Lisa, Greg?", she replied.

"Since I met with Oscar on Friday. Guess we're all best buddies now, eh?". House took a sip of the coffee he had brought back from the cafeteria and levelled his gaze at the other. Foreman had expressed his distrust of the Townsends on Friday, and the man was right to be cautious. Millionaires were not nice guys. Especially those who _acted_ like nice guys. This was a fact of life, like death and taxes. At least Vogler had the decency to wear his hostility on his sleeve.

Cuddy shrugged. "Just because you're completely oblivious to the workings of the hospital outside of these four walls, it doesn't mean that I have that luxury. And we've spent a lot of time looking into Townsend. Just give him a chance".

House sat still for a few moments while he considered this response. At length, he also shrugged. "Fine. I'll hold judgement. But I can already tell I won't like him. Or his daughter".

"Because they were nice to you?".

"Because they were nice to _everyone_. A friend to all is a friend to none".

"And who said that? Aristotle?", she snorted. The diagnostician had been slouching with a satisfied smugness, but upon her answer he couldn't stop himself sitting up suddenly in surprise. Cuddy laughed. "It _is_ Aristotle. Huh, what're the chances I'd get that right?".

"You want me to answer that…?", he mused.

"Anyway, I didn't come here to chew the fat-".

"-euphemism?".

The woman looked at him pointedly before carrying on as if he hadn't spoken. "We've got the flights and hotel rooms booked for your conference in a couple of weeks, so there's no backing out now. I want you and your team to present your papers, network, and spread the word for the good work we do here. Is that clear, House?".

"It's so sweet that you think I'm going to do any of that", he smiled back. The British Museum and Lord's cricket ground were not likely to see themselves.

"I figured you'd say that. Which is why I'm willing to offer you a two-week skip of clinic duty the moment you return…as long as you at least _try_ and network. I think it's a fair deal".

"And if I refuse this deal? Horse's head in my bed?".

"Nothing like that. But you may find the hospital's cable subscription lapses inexplicably. Technology is a fickle thing, isn't it?".

The man's face went white momentarily but he soon recovered. "Fine. I'll try. But I'm holding you to our bargain. Two weeks".

"I've enlisted Cameron to ensure you keep your word. Speaking of Cameron, to save money you guys are sharing a room. Please don't do anything stupid while you're in London. I'm absolutely fine you two being involved, but I do expect adult behaviour. So no spending the entire thing holed up having sex".

The nephrologist folded his arms with a smirk. "Well, I wasn't gonna, but now that you've suggested it…".

"I mean it, House. This is a valuable opportunity for PPTH, and a great way to kickstart our new partnership with Townsend. Please don't screw it up for me". Cuddy had already revealed to both House and Wilson the effort she had expended trying to get the hospital back on track after the twin disaster of Vogler and the shooting, and she hoped that an appeal to his better nature would be more likely to secure his co-operation.

"Don't get your panties in a twist. I'll behave. But only because you need a boost now that I'm sexually unavailable to you".

"Whatever gets you on that plane, House", she replied, before rising to her feet and making a move for the door. "Also, I'm having a little gathering at my place the week you get back, just the department heads, so we can introduce ourselves to the Townsends informally once they've had a chance to look around between now and then. I'd like you to come".

House rolled his eyes. "That sounds spectacularly awful. I think you'll find I'm busy that day - colonoscopy".

"You're coming. Maybe you can bring Cameron as your date or something to take the edge off. That would probably make it clear to Fiona as well, actually".

"Yeah, she did seem pretty keen on me". House didn't reveal to Cuddy (just as he hadn't to Wilson at lunch), the development in he and Cameron's relationship. There would be time to share the news but both had decided to keep it under wraps for now.

Cuddy nodded, thinking back to Friday. "Mmm. Not sure why, to be honest. Most people avoid you as much as possible".

"I think it was my supernaturally special medical ability combined with my rapier-like wit".

"Perhaps. Anyway, I'm off. Aren't you due in the clinic now?", she asked, glancing at her wristwatch from the door.

"Nah. The ducklings are doing it for me this week. It's all above board, don't panic", he added, catching sight of her disapproving look. Nevertheless, she walked out without another word, leaving House alone. For a few moments he considered returning to his conference presentation. Wilson and he had enjoyed a productive lunch actually discussing medicine, and the oncologist had weighed in on the euthanasia topic. Surprisingly, there had been broad agreement between both doctors. House firmly believed that the right to die was exactly that – a right. Some Europeans were far ahead of America on this issue, which was chiefly why he had decided to broach the subject in London. Wilson, for his part, saw euthanasia as a viable last resort for those patients whose suffering was truly horrific and beyond the reach of modern medicine. Many things, some controversial, some common sense, remained to be said on the topic.

And yet, something Cuddy had mentioned stuck in his mind. House glanced at the clock, noting that there was still thirty minutes until _Real Hospitals of Los Angeles_. Time enough to check something.

* * *

House leant against the counter at the nurses' station observing the scene before him. He had always enjoyed watching the world, seeing how people behaved when they thought no one was looking. It helped that he already possessed a reputation for weirdness – fellow doctors, when they weren't too busy going about their business, didn't think twice that he was just standing there apparently doing nothing at all; and patients thought he was one of them. House's eyes tracked around until they alighted on Cameron, who was engaged in conversation with an elderly man and a young boy, presumably a grandson.

The diagnostician had always loved the way she moved. Despite the unflattering doctor's coat, flats, and tied-back hair, Cameron managed to retain hints of femininity, whether in the delicate scent she wore or in the subtle sway of her hips. House watched as she finished her conversation and moved to talk to a nurse, just across from him. Only when she had issued instructions and the nurse had departed did she turn back to the paper on the counter, smiling a little to herself. Having made a quick note, she selected another file from the stack, glancing over by chance. As soon as she saw her boyfriend, her face lit up and she beamed. "Hey. I was just thinking about you".

"A likely story. I needed a break from writing my paper. How's it going down here?".

The brunette walked around the counter to stand before him, still with the blue folder in hand. "It's fine. We've made a serious dent in your weekly clinic allocation. I think Foreman and Chase are here somewhere, if you wanted a team meeting…?", she said, trailing off as she looked around.

"Nope. I just came to see, and run something by, you".

"Of course, but I've got a patient waiting in exam room three. Can it wait?".

"No, it's really important. Let's head over there. Come". House led the way, not caring that they must have presented a strange sight: white-coated young doctor holding hands with a scruffy looking man in jeans and sneakers. He opened the door to see a college-age guy sitting on the bed. "Hey, dude. I'm Dr. House and this is Dr. Cameron. What's the problem?".

"I think someone at school has hexed me with black magic and I'd like a scan to ensure my heart's still beating the way it should", replied the guy, scratching a bird tattoo on his arm absentmindedly, as if what he'd just said was the most normal thing in the world.

Both diagnosticians stared at him. House recovered first. "Ah, yes. You need to see Dr. Chase, our voodoo specialist, in exam room four. It's just", he pointed through the window to the other side of the clinic, "through there. He'll have you exorcised in no time".

"OK, great. Thanks. I was afraid people wouldn't take my condition seriously, but if you've already got an expert in place…that's very reassuring. Is this Dr. Chase a true shaman, then?".

"Oh yes", said House breezily. "Chase is a real master of his craft, initiated by tribal elders in the Australian outback". The man gave a solemn nod of thanks and left the room.

"So, what's up?", asked Cameron, not even bothering to discuss what they had just witnessed.

"First things first…". House closed the blinds, locked the door, and pulled her into a kiss, stroking a cheek with his thumb. "Hi", he murmured.

"Hi back", Cameron whispered into his mouth, tossing the medical file onto the cabinet before forcing him to backpedal until he was sitting on the examination bed, with her standing between his legs. "That little stunt you pulled has bought us a few minutes before I need to return. Now, what can we do in that time, hmm?".

House's hand found its way inside her lab coat and he replied between kisses. "You wanna talk about Star Wars?".

"Absolutely not", came the instant response. The nephrologist was a tall man by any measure, but his position on the bed meant that for once Cameron had the height advantage and she used it to pull his lips away for a moment. "This is a Star Wars free zone, I'm afraid".

House grinned. "Fine". With a final peck on the mouth, he carried on: "couple of things: firstly, I saw Cuddy just now and the conference and flights are all booked".

"Great!", she exclaimed, and the look of pure excitement on her face softened his heart. "But you didn't have to come all the way down here to tell me".

"Well, quite. Cuddy mentioned she's enlisted _you_ to ensure that I do my doctorly duty and actually talk to those clowns over there".

"That's right", she smiled. "We had a nice chat about it just before she came up to Diagnostics. This event is a big deal for her and she asked for my help keeping you in line. Whether you like it or not, you are the best diagnostician in America and a big draw for people".

"Uhuh. Blowing smoke up my ass, while fantastic, won't cut the mustard. How do you envisage carrying out your plan? I've already said that I have things to do once we arrive, and whether _you_ like it or not, I'll be doing them, irrespective of Cuddy's threats".

The brunette tilted his chin up. "I've looked at the schedule and we'll have plenty of spare time, House. The last thing I want to do is stifle you. I've said this before, but you're your own man and it's one of the things that most attracts me. But I promised Cuddy and I'm a woman of my word".

"My question remains how you plan on enforcing your will". House folded his arms with a belligerence that wasn't entirely feigned. He had always responded poorly to figures of authority telling him what to do, even if he stood to gain time off from clinic duty. If he were one for self-analysis, he would cite daddy issues. _If_.

"Easy", she replied softly. "I'm thinking carrot…", Cameron pulled him into a breathless kiss, both hands on his face, letting his tongue enter her mouth and his hands dive under blouse, before breaking contact suddenly, "…and stick", she finished, taking an extra step backwards for good measure while flashing him a wicked grin.

"That…could work", he admitted. "But the carrot element would have to really blow my mind for you to have any chance of success".

The other nodded thoughtfully. "Thanks for the suggestion. I'll take it under advisement. What was the second thing you wanted to discuss?".

"Accommodation. The hospital has stuck us in a shared room, which means that we'll be, ah, living together for a few days. How'd you feel about that?".

Cameron's green eyes saw through his dissimulation. "It sounds like I should be asking _you_ that question".

"Thing is, though, I asked you first. And you know I hate it when people answer a question with the same".

The immunologist sat down on the bed next to her boss and placed a hand on his knee. "House, I've been clear from the start that I'm comfortable with whatever makes you comfortable. If you say to me that you don't want to share a room, that you need your space, then it's absolutely fine; if you say that you don't want me to accompany you to the London sights, it's absolutely fine; if you say that you do or don't want to spend every waking moment in my company then, again, it's absolutely fine".

"Really?", he asked.

"Really", she affirmed, taking his hand and kissing it gently, before adding in a deliberately casual tone: "the fact is, and we're talking between doctors now, you're completely screwed anyway, since you've already admitted you love me".

The diagnostician grinned. "May have been an oversight on my part, alas. OK, what if I said that I was _comfortable_ with threesomes…?". The question trailed off more in hope than expectation, and Cameron's impassive expression was not encouraging. "Did I say threesomes? I meant I was comfortable with a backdoor bonanza. Isn't that what the kids call it nowadays?". Again, nothing. "Jokes. I actually meant only 'sex on the hotel balcony'. Yes, that's it", he added, observing her expression softening a touch at the final suggestion.

"I don't think our hotel has balconies", she answered, though not without amusement at his antics.

"But if it did?", House asked hopefully.

Cameron sighed exaggeratedly. "I could be persuaded. But you'd need to do something for me, and it isn't sexual".

"Name it", he answered at once.

"I want to read the full draft of your conference paper. And I also want to look around your apartment at my own pace, with no room off-limits".

The diagnostician rolled his eyes but nevertheless inclined his head in assent. "Fine. I can manage that as long as you don't tamper with my porn collection and as long as we're at least entertaining the possibility of sex on the balcony".

"Deal". Cameron hopped down from the bed and stifled a smile. House had seemingly forgotten something during the course of his giddy bargaining: London November nights were generally pretty chilly. If he wanted to venture outside in nothing but his birthday suit, he was more than welcome to do so.


	65. Pizza with a pal

Wednesday evening House was at home working on his paper, reference books spread out all over the desk, glass of scotch close to hand. During their second date while exploring his bookcase Cameron had commented that he possessed fewer medical textbooks than might be expected of the best diagnostician in the country. In truth, however, she had simply been looking in the wrong place, for House possessed a significant library, sprawling down the hallway and into his study, catalogued according to subject area. Naturally, the largest sections comprised his own specialisms of nephrology and infectious diseases, but no branch of medicine lacked representation.

The diagnostician often belittled his chosen discipline, comparing it unfavourably to other pursuits, some intellectual, some not. And while he certainly did have other interests, not least drinking, sex, and television, he always came back to the old reliable. Diagnostics, the journey from identification of symptoms through to their eventual treatment, was too satisfying an endeavour to ignore for long. Medicine defined his being, and if the moment came that solving its puzzles no longer stimulated him, then his mind was already gone, and life was over. It simply was not possible for him to comprehend a situation where science no longer appealed. House saw much in shades of grey, but some things really were black and white.

The knock on the door disrupted his train of thought and he looked up, having completely forgotten that tonight was pizza night. "It's open!", he yelled.

Wilson walked in, balancing pizza boxes and a six-pack of beer. "I got thin crust and meat-free toppings for a change", he called down the corridor.

House exited the sanctuary of his study and ambled through to the living area. "Most mid-life crises involve women and fast cars. But your chosen expression is pizza flavours. That's great, man – no one gets hurt and your bank balance doesn't have a Ferrari-sized hole in it. Down side is your best friend thinks you're a giant wuss. But don't worry, your secret's safe with me".

The oncologist cracked open a beer and handed one over, before both men sank into the sofa in front of the TV. "I just think it would be a good idea if we cut back on our meat consumption; do our bit to save the planet".

House rolled his eyes, and his face fell even more when he threw back the lid and saw that both pizzas were indeed vegetarian. "For God's sake, I thought you were joking. What the hell is this?", he asked, pointing accusingly at the nearest one.

"Red peppers, sweetcorn, mushroom and olives. And the other is cheese, courgette and chive; both are specially prepared to be low fat".

The nephrologist took a swig of beer and narrowed his eyes. "I thought you said we were eating this for the environment. But now you're saying it's for health reasons. You need to get your story straight, bud".

"Why can't it be both?".

House said nothing for a few moments, chewing suspiciously as he thought. Wilson had only ever betrayed an interest in losing weight, or indeed in societal talking points like the environment, when a woman was on the scene. House could remember the almost frenzied process of self-improvement stimulated by Samantha's arrival in the oncologist's life. Marriage had followed soon after and divorce a little later still. When it seemed like the matter had been dropped, House asked conversationally: "so, who's the lucky girl?".

"Your momma", Wilson replied instantly. "We were going to confess our relationship to you at Thanksgiving, but since you'll be missing it for the London conference, you may as well know now. I think it may be love".

The nephrologist nodded slowly. "Well, you're welcome to try it on. Old Blythe is a real man-eater. I think she'd chew you up and spit you out in no time. I'd like to watch that". As soon as he spoke the words a grimace flashed across his face. "Wait, scratch that".

The other man took a huge bite out of the olive pizza and tried to pretend like he was enjoying it. "Hey, your mom would be lucky to have me. I can be a real charmer when necessary".

"It's more that you'd have to deal with my dad, the former marine pilot. Now that I would like to watch from a ringside seat – they'd be scraping you from the canvas". Again, the mental image was an unpleasant one. "Ugh, never mind. I take that back as well. Can we change the subject? It's hard enough eating this crap as it is".

"You were the one who brought up women, House. I'm just trying to enjoy my sweetcorn and mushroom pizza in peace".

"Said no one ever", muttered House. The pair lapsed into silence, making hard work of their food. The diagnostician had nothing against vegetables per se, and they had their place as accompaniments to meat, but he couldn't condone a completely vegetarian dish. The concept was unnatural. Like evolution. Or French fries without salt. The only tactic was to take his mind off it. "So", he tried again, "who's the lucky girl?".

Wilson replied quickly once more. "Grandma House. Women with no teeth turn me on".

"Alas, she is no longer with us", returned House calmly, bottle at his lips.

"Sorry", corrected the oncologist. "I meant dead chicks turn me on". But like his friend two minutes prior, he couldn't go through with it and shuddered involuntarily. "Scratch that".

House chuckled. "You're too wholesome for necrophilia, man. Just stick to your comfort zone: hot, preferably blonde, damsels in distress…". The words trailed off as a theory appeared in his brain. He had been too swept up with Cameron to check in on his friend's love life. As far as he knew, Wilson had been single since his chances with Mathilde had fallen through. And she had gone out with Chase afterwards. But now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen she and Chase together for some time, and he knew that the latter actually liked Cameron. Maybe Mathilde had been cast aside recently, a beacon of neediness to James Wilson, fixer of desperate situations. House should've seen it sooner. It was virtually a soap opera storyline, his speciality.

Wilson saw the familiar glazed look that signalled the onset of an epiphany. He sighed and shovelled more pizza onto his plate, pre-empting House: "Fine, you win. I saw Mathilde for coffee a couple of days ago. Look, I know what you're going to say-".

"-you would make very cute children", interjected House with a grin.

"OK, I didn't think you'd say that", he continued. "Really?".

"Yeah. I've told you before: you've got a boyish, fresh-faced charm, and if we add that to Mathilde's Swedish babe-ness, well, it's a pretty potent genetic soup right there".

The oncologist smiled in relief. "That's nice of you to say. D'you think she'd want children with me, then?".

"Not a chance, no".

"Fair", grunted the oncologist, taking another swig of beer.

"Are you going to see her again, James?".

Wilson's eyes narrowed, always on guard when first names were in play. "I don't know, Greg. Why?".

"I'd just like a hint as to whether I need to actually devote some time to figuring this wench out, or whether I can just get by with minimal reconnaissance". House had finally finished his dinner, having taken twice as long as usual. The next time he saw a vegetarian pizza within these walls it was spinning out of the apartment window along with the man who brought it.

The other sat back and folded his arms. "The alternative, and hear me out here, is that you don't talk to her _at all_ and just let me get on with it. Radical, I grant, but I think it's an approach we can adopt for once".

"I hardly think that's fair. You and Cuddy have been all up in my grill about Cameron for the past four months. Surely it's time I returned the favour".

Wilson considered this comment for a moment or two. On the one hand, it was always risky having House anywhere near potential or actual girlfriends because he had an uncanny ability to scare them off, wilfully or otherwise. On the other hand, though, Wilson also appreciated that his friend was hardwired to meddle, to pull out his callipers and scanning equipment and have a poke around. Maybe it was wiser to let him get it out of his system sooner rather than later, before things with Mathilde went any further. Plus, she was now far better prepared to deal with his antics, having been informed of House's modus operandi. "Fine. I'd rather you didn't approach her but, if it's necessary, you do what you need to do", he said finally.

"Wow, that was easy. Can I sleep with her, too? I'm on the lookout for threesome partners". The nephrologist drained his beer and picked up a second from the pack by the couch.

"Good one. There's not a snowball's chance in hell that Cameron's agreed to that".

House grinned at his friend. "Did I ever tell you about a case we had last year where a wife was poisoning her husband with gold?".

The change in subject took Wilson by surprise, but he played along. "Hmm. Yes, I remember – around the time you invited me to stay here and then complained about my morning grooming regimen, ate all my food, and deleted the messages from my realtor".

"Hole in one. You smart; you go far. Anyway, during the patient history we discovered that the wife had organised a threesome for the husband just a few weeks prior. College roommate".

"Huh. Sounds like the perfect marriage", mused the oncologist.

"I know, right? Maybe that's why all yours have failed. More threesomes needed. In any case", House continued quickly before Wilson could complain, "the minions came to the same conclusion as you, and during the course of our debate Cameron let slip, and I'm quoting her directly now, 'if you ask me, if two people really trust each other, a threesome once every seven years might actually help a marriage'".

"No way", said Wilson, folding his arms.

House held his hands up. "I'd never lie about such things. You know how seriously I take sex in its many glorious forms". Of course, he was conveniently forgetting to mention that her reaction to the idea a couple of days ago had been decidedly lukewarm. But Wilson didn't need to know that.

"Well, even if that's true, it doesn't mean she'd have one with you. Besides, she specified marriage, and you aren't married". Wilson was trying to tell himself that he wasn't jealous and failing spectacularly.

"Sure, but at least she seems open to the principle. And that's all you can ask for really, isn't it?".

"You're a lucky bastard. Damn, it's annoying".

"What are pals for, eh?".

"Pass me another beer, baldy, so I can drown my sorrows", replied the oncologist shortly. "Whose idea was vegetarian pizza, anyway? God, that was gross. I'd rather be fat".

House laughed at this response, but duly handed over a fresh bottle before picking up the television remote and flicking over to Netflix, quickly locating the series they had been steadily working through most Wednesdays for the past month. Within minutes, both were engrossed, and the dinner debacle soon forgotten.


	66. Name calling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the thing. I've just realised that I've been posting chapters of this story into the text editor in the wrong way. Long story short: uploads were taking me like five times longer than they should have, and that is cumulative time I'll never get back. I haven't felt this annoyed at myself since agreeing to watch the latest Transformers movie. And here's another thing - I can now insert HORIZONTAL LINES into this story to signify a break rather than the completely inadequate -- I was using before. This changes everything. From now on, I'm using the horizontal lines. To celebrate this breakthrough, have another chapter.

The following evening Chase, Cameron, and Foreman were on the way back to Diagnostics having finally completed their department's entire quota of clinic hours, which covered this and the following week. House, of course, had demanded the fellows bear his load as payment for sharing the conference paper, but they too were not spared their own obligations. In truth, and for their own reasons, none of the doctors minded serving time in the clinic every now and then.

Cameron in particular, who regarded her job as a way of giving back to the community and helping those less fortunate than herself, frequently took on House's share even without being asked. She knew that he saw her kindness as an odd character trait, maybe even a weakness. But, as she had once told him, she knew to be grateful for what she received. And over the last few months, she had received a lot; not least, the man she loved. Clinic duty kept her grounded, and the medicine was simple enough that she could think about House without fear of losing focus.

"I'm gonna head off now", said Foreman as they neared the locker room. "Meeting an old friend from high school who's passing through Princeton. See you guys tomorrow".

Cameron and Chase carried on towards the office after waving goodbye to their colleague. "Can you imagine what Foreman was like in high school?", asked the intensivist.

Cameron chuckled. "Good question. He was either an absolute terror or a really studious egghead".

"Well, we know already that House hired him because he had a juvenile record. So I'm guessing the former".

"True", she conceded as they entered the elevator and the doors slid shut.

Chase glanced sidelong at the other. "Did House ever say why he hired _you_ , then?". _I hired you because you look good, like a piece of art in the lobby_. The brunette cringed internally, aware that the answer would inevitably turn the conversation towards attraction, a subject she tried to avoid with Chase.

Something Cameron had realised over the course of her adult life was how her words and deeds affected men in unintended ways. Chase was a textbook example. Early in her fellowship they'd treated a college guy whose condition had arisen during sex with his girlfriend. Her two male colleagues had laughed about it, and afterwards, as payback, she had confronted Chase with a needlessly graphic description of the female orgasm. It was only meant to make him uncomfortable, but he tried to ask her out later that very day, as if their chat had somehow signalled her interest. Not at all what she'd planned.

And then there was the one-night stand, an experience which had meant absolutely nothing. And yet Chase still expected more. Again, not what she needed. Even now, as they walked, Cameron could feel his eyes on her. This was something she endured because she knew he was harmless. Guys had always thought it necessary to make her attractiveness known, and there wasn't really anything that could be done about it. Men were so predictable. Except House. _That_ man had been a puzzle from the beginning. He'd confessed she was lobby art, taken her to monster trucks, comforted her in the lab…and still denied her. No one had done that before. House was diffident in the most seductive way, unlike any other. He was aloof, enigmatic, strong. Frighteningly clever. _Intoxicating_.

"Cameron?", prompted Chase as they exited the elevator. The woman, whose heart had quickened as a consequence of these thoughts, cleared her throat and revealed the truth, that House had declared her physical attributes to be the reason. The Australian snorted. "Standard. Does it bother you?", he added after a few moments.

"Does what bother me?".

"His motive".

The brunette shrugged, seeing no reason to lie. "It did at the time".

"And now?". The pair were nearing Diagnostics.

Cameron quickened her pace imperceptibly, hoping to reach the office and the end of this conversation. "Now, I've learnt to accept House for who he is".

"Fair enough. Just as long as you're sure". Chase opened the door for her, but not before his companion fixed him with a keen look.

"And if I'm not?", she asked. "You'll be there to catch me if I fall?".

The Australian raised an eyebrow, sensing the tone. "I'm just making conversation. I'm your friend. I want you to be happy".

"Well, I _am_ happy. But even if I wasn't, I'm not your responsibility, Chase. And I'm not House's responsibility, either. I'm my own person, responsible for myself. As my friend I hope you can understand that". Cameron still hadn't crossed the threshold into the office. She wanted to be sure that he got the picture.

Chase flashed the apologetically boyish grin that charmed most women. "I hear you. Sorry if I breached a barrier. From now on, House is off-limits".

The brunette nodded back, grateful for his concession, and they headed into the department. "Thanks. What are your plans for the evening?".

"Gym then bed, I reckon. I'm pretty zonked. You?".

Cameron glanced towards the adjoining office but the blinds were pulled across. "Guess I'll check in on House then head home myself. Got a good book on the go".

Chase had shrugged into his jacket and made his way back to the door. "Great. Enjoy!". With that, he left.

The immunologist went to the sink and drank a glass of water, thinking back over the conversation. Though she had initially been uncomfortable, it'd actually turned out for the best. Chase was now fully aware of the situation, and hopefully any further House chat had been pre-empted. Cameron knew her colleague to be a decent man. She supposed he just wasn't used to women saying no, and this was understandable. Having finished her water she rinsed the glass, cracked open House's door, and poked her head around it. "How's it going?".

The man had his headphones in and was typing away on the computer, completely oblivious to her greeting, since his back was to the door through which she'd just peeked. His desk was strewn with open books and journals, and there were sheets of paper everywhere, on which she could detect various scribblings. A cup of coffee rested atop a hefty tome whose spine revealed it to be a Russian dictionary. _Oh, come on_ , she thought to herself, _he does_ _ **not**_ _speak Russian as well_. Cameron moved into the office undetected, unwilling to break his focus. "House?", she whispered. No answer. Maybe she should leave him to it. The quicker he finished his conference paper, the quicker she got to read it.

Cameron was on the point of exiting stealthily when she had an idea. House had displayed a reluctance as far as pet names were concerned. But if he couldn't _hear_ them, then there was an opportunity to experiment. The diagnostician's music was blaring in his ears, and the keyboard clacked away. "Hi, Greg", she said softly, testing the water.

No answer.

"Gregory. I'm talking to you".

 _Tap, tap, tap_.

"Gregson", she tried, louder this time. "Hey, Greggles, are you ignoring me on purpose?". A laugh was stifled as she imagined calling House 'Greggles' to his face and for a split second it seemed as if he would turn around and spot her standing there.

Nothing. House tabbed over to an article on his monitor before resuming his typing. Cameron could hear Gimme Shelter by The Rolling Stones on his playlist. _No way is he gonna hear me through that_. "I think 'babe' works, even though you didn't like it before. What do you think, babe?", she muttered, trying hard not to giggle.

The diagnostician sat back in his chair, humming along to the lyrics, hands clasped behind his head as he scanned the words on the screen. When Cameron was sure he was still unaware, she carried on her experiment. "Well, what about 'sweetie'? Meh, _I_ don't like that", she added upon reflection.

House hunched over a book to the side, running his finger down the pages as he flicked through them. "Philosophical grounding…", he murmured to himself. "Diachronic applications…yes. Not _just_ medical; not _just_ here and now…too narrow. _Think_ ".

"Darling?", ventured Cameron quietly.

 _Tap, tap_.

"Munchkin? No. Hmm".

House typed out a few lines before swearing under his breath and deleting the last. As before, Cameron waited for him to resume before she spoke again. "Honeybunch? Nah. You're not a 'honeybunch' are you, Gregorius? 'Course you ain't".

 _Tappety tap tap_.

"Maybe we're going about this all wrong. Maybe it doesn't need to be a traditional term of endearment. Let's see. You know I love your blue eyes, so why don't we start there? What about…Bluey? That's kinda good – not sexual but still pretty personal".

House tabbed over to another article and began muttering softly: "…dunno what the…fuck that…means, Igor. Moron. Write English, for fuck's sake…". He trailed off as he read, lost in thought.

The brunette guessed he was grappling with a Russian paper in the second window on his screen. The headphones were playing Losing My Religion by R.E.M. _Classic_. "I have to say", she whispered behind his back, "I'm liking Bluey. Or just 'Blue'? I think it's going to be a variation on that…or 'babe'. Is that OK with you, Gregtastic? Speak now, or forever hold your peace". After a few seconds of absolutely nothing, Cameron nodded and turned to leave, mission accomplished.

"Where are you going?", asked House casually, still tapping away at the keyboard.

The brunette started in surprise. "Umm, House?".

"That's my name", he replied, removing the earbuds before spinning around in his chair and smirking at her. "Or is it?".

Cameron flushed with embarrassment. "Er, well, I, er…how much did you…er, hear?".

"Since Gimme Shelter. Yeah, the fade out really came at the wrong time for you".

"Why didn't you say?", she asked, still feeling the heat in her cheeks which she tried to hide by running a hand through her hair.

"You seemed to be having fun". House got up from the seat and levelled his gaze at the other.

"Yeah, well, I feel pretty silly now. And _why_ are you staring at me?". Cameron folded her arms crossly, annoyed that she'd been found out doing something completely childish. Attack was sometimes the best form of defence.

"Because you look sexy as hell when you're embarrassed", he said, walking towards her.

"Huh?". Of all the phrases he could have uttered in response, she didn't think that would be one of them.

"Yeah, I've noticed it for a while. When you're emotional your face tinges a little, your mouth opens, your hair gets messy, your nose twitches". House reached his partner, looking down into her eyes. "It's a massive turn on", he finished.

Cameron placed both her palms on his shirt and tilted her face upwards, allowing her manufactured antagonism to fade away. "Have I ever told you how weird you are?".

House grinned. "Once or twice".

"Good. Just checking". As Cameron was about to pull him into a kiss, a shadow flickered across his expression. "Are you alright?", she asked.

When the nephrologist spoke, his voice was far-off. "I've seen you embarrassed, angry, happy, jealous. I've seen your face light up with laughter one day and contort in sexual pleasure the next. But I've not seen you sad. I've not seen you cry".

"Because you've made me happier than anyone could ask for, House". Cameron's voice was low, aware that he was being serious. She could feel the slow beat of his heart beneath her right hand.

"But I _will_ make you cry, Cameron, at some point, whether intentionally or not. I'll see tears running down your face and there'll be nothing I can say that will make it better. Do you understand that? I don't have happy endings".

The woman brought a hand up to his cheek. "Do you remember what I told you out on that balcony", she jerked her head towards the window, "the night we started? When you asked me if I wanted this?".

"You said you knew what you were getting yourself into and that you weren't like my other girlfriends". House's eyes slid from her face to look at the floor.

"Yes. And do you know what's changed since then, over these last few months?".

"What?", he murmured, still refusing to meet her gaze.

Cameron lifted his chin, forcing him to look at her. "Nothing".

"You say that now, but-".

"-House, listen. No relationship is perfect, and I fully expect you to make me sadder than I'd think possible-".

"-that's exactly what I mean", he interjected.

The brunette held a finger to his lips, silencing him. "But I don't care, House. I don't care that, at some point in the future, I'll cry myself to sleep thinking of you. I don't care about the tears I'll shed as I say your name under my breath. These last few months I have been the happiest woman in the world. Because of you. And that's worth any amount of hypothetical pain in the days or months to come".

House processed these words, allowing the silence to build. Finally he sighed, but it was more a release of tension than anything else. The pair kissed for a few moments. "You're pretty good at this whole relationship thing, Camster", he breathed against her neck.

"Not really. I'm just pretty good with you, buster".

House grinned, before kissing her nose. "You can say that again".

"I'm just pretty good with you…babe", she whispered.

"Are you likely to let this go anytime soon?", he asked in exasperation.

"That'll be a big fat 'no' from my side of the aisle, Bluey", she retorted with a wink.

"I take it back. I think _you'll_ make _me_ cry…", he muttered, turning to the computer with Cameron's unguarded laughter in his ears.

"How's the presentation coming?", she asked once she'd recovered, surveying the scene.

"Not bad. Still needs a few more days' work. I'm struggling with expressing the philosophical underpinning". House sighed and rubbed his stubble, reaching out for her hand which she offered automatically.

"Philosophy in a medical paper?".

"Yeah", he replied, as if it were a completely normal combination, intertwining their fingers at the same time.

Cameron crouched down to peer over his shoulder at the screen, brushing against his face with her hair. "I guess you'll be working on this tonight, then?".

House breathed in discreetly, enjoying the subtle pineapple aroma which persisted despite it being late in the workday. "Mmm, sorry. I'm on a bit of a roll and I want to make progress while it's hot. Might be the same tomorrow night, too".

The brunette smiled. "You don't have to apologise, House. I _think_ I'll be able to survive without you for a couple of evenings". She tilted her lips to his cheek, but he turned at the last second and met her in a kiss which deepened as he brought a hand up to caress the nape of her neck. "You're an excellent kisser", Cameron purred into his mouth.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathing harder. "Y'know", he said, voice thick, "how about I just postpone this for now and we go back to yours?".

Cameron grinned. "No, you were right the first time - you need to work". She whispered huskily in his ear: "I'll be here when you finish, House". With that, she liberated her hand and drew back, heading for the door.

"Greg", he said, clearing his throat.

"What's that?", she asked, turning back.

"You can call me Greg. If you want. When it's just us".

The other nodded. "What about 'babe'?".

"Let's start with 'Greg' in addition to 'House' and work from there".

The immunologist gave an elaborate curtsy and spoke in her Scarlett impression from across the room. "You betcha. Farewell for now, Greg".

House scoffed and gave a little shooing motion as she left. Following a moment or two's reflection he replaced his earbuds and stretched his hands, enjoying the residual warmth from Cameron's fingers. With a little shake of the head he refocused on the task before him. Time was marching on and there was much to do.


	67. Siren's song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cameron's thought process I've extrapolated from the season 4 episode 'Ugly' in which she admits to loving House and then tries to clarify it to herself in the mirror. House references the Greek hero Odysseus (mastermind of the Trojan Horse) in the season 6 episode 'Lockdown' (which, incidentally and unfortunately, is the last Cameron episode before the series finale) while talking to a Princeton Classics professor. As you may have guessed by now, I also have a strong interest in Classics and ancient history. Hence the title and allusions in this chapter. And my username!

Wilson poked his head through House's office door. "Where is everyone? It's the middle of the afternoon".

The diagnostician glanced up from the reference volume he'd been consulting, annoyance flashing across his face at being disturbed. It was make or break time for his article and the last two hours had been spent fine-tuning the transitions between each segment of the argument. Most of what he wanted to say was in place, but it would take the rest of the day and, probably, much of the weekend to go through a final draft. What he _needed_ was peace and quiet. "I gave my fellows a half-day", House replied shortly, turning back to the page.

"You don't have a case?", asked the oncologist.

"Not had a case all week".

"Does Cuddy know you've been taking the hospital's dime for nothing?".

House rolled his eyes. "You gonna tell on me? Well, too late – the week is over and the ducklings have already gone home".

Wilson raised an eyebrow. "I think _I've_ left it a bit late in our friendship to start ratting you out to the bosswoman now. How's progress?". During their meetup, House had revealed a couple of the key points, including where he was having trouble reconciling the evidence, and they had discussed a possible way forward. From what he'd gathered, this paper was shaping up to be one of House's strongest yet. It was a strange thing. His best friend was a lazy person by nature, but when he actually stirred himself to think deeply about an issue he cared about, the results tended to be spectacular.

"Not bad, but it would be better if I could work without interruption".

"I'll leave if you agree to reference me in a footnote when you publish it", smirked Wilson.

House snorted. "Nice. You fancy basking in my reflected glory, eh? I'll think about it. Now buzz off". The oncologist grinned in response and turned away, before being called back: "actually, I could use a second pair of eyeballs on this page. It's not running together as I'd like. Maybe a stupider man can see what I can't".

"Gee, well, when you ask that nicely, how can I refuse…".

House held out the sheet of paper. "Read".

* * *

Cameron was sitting in her car considering what to do with an unexpectedly free afternoon. Ordinarily, she'd have stuck around the hospital to help in the clinic but since they'd got on top of their duties for once, that option had disappeared. There wasn't any research to do either since the conference paper was already finished, and the prospect of starting a brand new project so soon didn't appeal in the slightest. And food had already been taken care of. The three fellows had gone out to lunch and parted ways afterwards. Foreman was due to meet his high school friend again, and Chase had also made his excuses after the meal. Cameron suspected that their chat yesterday had rendered him a little less sure around her, which was absolutely fine as far as she was concerned. But it did mean that for the first time in a while she had nowhere to be.

 _Hmm. What to do, what to do_.

The problem with being a workaholic was that, when you'd been told to leave your workplace early, things suddenly felt…empty. House was likely to be holed up all day writing his paper, so that also wasn't ideal. Anyway, she didn't need him to have a good time. _Actually_ , she thought to herself, tapping the steering wheel, _this is good for you_. Too often over these last few months her spare time had been a combination of talking with House followed by sex with House. Or sex followed by talking. Or just sex. Or, occasionally, just talking.

_I mean, sure, the whole experience had been a dream. And, granted, he's in your head 24/7. But life isn't just sex and talking. Nope. Much more to existence than that. Apparently._

Cameron nodded forcefully, listing off her hobbies one by one: reading, exercise, films, clarinet. And a couple more she'd not yet had the courage to reveal to House. It was all pretty uncomplicated – she was a woman of simple tastes. The act of running through her favourite things suggested a way forward. For this afternoon off to be a success, objectively speaking, then all she had to do was:

(1) go for a jog,

(2) followed by reading a chapter or two of her book,

(3) followed by an hour or so of clarinet practice,

(4) followed by a film.

That would take her to the evening. Then it was just a simple matter of a couple of glasses of wine with dinner, a quick browse of the internet, maybe involving a glance at the _Chicago Local_ and/or Breitbart News (for laughs, obviously), and bedtime. Not a House in sight. _Yes_ , thought Cameron, _that all sounds…pleasant_.

The brunette exhaled suddenly. The fact was (and she could admit this now because nobody else was here), even though she had claimed to be fine with House not being available for two nights, she really wasn't. The fact was (and again this was something she felt safe thinking to herself), she yearned for him. House had claimed during their 'date' at Café Spoleto that she needed rather than loved. Upon reflection, he was both right and wrong. It wasn't that she needed companionship, or even needed love – after all, she strove to maintain the sanctity of her private life against all comers – it was more that, because she loved _him_ , she needed to be with _him_ as much as possible. In other words, it wasn't so much men in general she needed, only the _man_. Cameron didn't think there was anything particularly unusual about that – she simply adored floating in his orbit and it was perfectly natural, surely, to chase that feeling.

Still, House did have to work, and it would have been unbelievably selfish to demand he drop everything to be with her. It was a strange situation. Cameron considered herself to be independent and strong, and had never once self-identified as clingy. But it was proving difficult to imagine a world where they weren't together. Subconsciously, her brain was already beginning to divide her life into pre- and post- House. And this was utterly ridiculous because they'd only been going out for four months. She'd had blocks of cheese for longer than that, after all.

_No, but I am completely head over heels. One hundred percent, entirely, totally, doomed._

Regardless, whatever her own feelings, she hadn't been lying when she'd told him in the clinic that this relationship would only go at a pace he was comfortable with. The man was exceptional and she'd never ask him to prioritise their relationship over medicine. Medicine, indeed science, _defined_ House and she would sooner end things than take away his meaning. Strong words, but that was the reality.

What all this meant for Cameron's afternoon was unclear and she shook her head, refocusing on the list of things: _go for a run_. Yes. That would be a good start. The immunologist hit the ignition and eased out of the hospital grounds, pulling up to the first set of traffic lights while mentally preparing a running route in her head. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a trio of women about her age, walking on the sidewalk with a bunch of shopping bags in hand. That was something she'd not done in a while. Looking closer, she could see them giggling together as they glanced into one of the bags. _Victoria's Secret_. When was the last time she'd ventured there? The benefit of being beautiful was that you didn't really need to try hard. _And yet_. On the spur of the moment, Cameron took a left turn and headed in the opposite direction to home. Running could wait.

* * *

That evening, House was typing away at the keyboard with one hand while shovelling Singaporean noodles into his face with the other, wielding his chopsticks like a conductor with a baton. There was a real art to chopstick technique. Wilson, for example, was worse than useless: food everywhere but his mouth. House had never seen Cuddy use them, nor Cameron. At that, he sighed. _Back to familiar terrain_. For the past two hours the woman had been at the forefront of his mind, lurking, enticing him away from his work like the Sirens to Odysseus. The diagnostician dug the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. _Go away. I'm busy_. A fresh drink would see to it.

House ambled down the corridor to the liquor cabinet in the living room and poured himself a generous measure of Highland Park. Not the best scotch but it needed finishing. He turned away, thought better of it, and picked up the bottle, thinking as he wandered back to the study. The strength of his desire for Cameron no longer surprised him. What _was_ continuing to surprise him was how she'd seemingly penetrated every aspect of his life. When he had first told Wilson of the hallucination, he'd confessed that she'd pop into his brain every now and then watching TV or drinking at night. Things had developed, though, and the symptoms were far more serious. _And it's fantastic_.

The paper was in fairly good shape. As he sat back down, he briefly toyed with the idea of texting and asking if she fancied meeting up. It probably wouldn't go down well, if only because she had made it clear yesterday that she could manage a couple of nights without him. A woman like her probably had a busy social calendar. Friday night and the afternoon off to boot. The fellows, he knew, had all gone out to lunch. More than likely they were holed up in a bar somewhere having a whale of a time.

The best course of action would be to finish his noodles, have some whiskey, and get cracking with the presentation. With a bit of focus, he could break its back tonight and then maybe see Cameron tomorrow if she was keen. House chewed thoughtfully for the next few minutes, thinking through the latest section. The best research articles relied on first-hand experience and this one was no exception. But euthanasia was a controversial topic and, in America, illegal. There were no grey areas in the eyes of the law.

Consequently, House had been forced to be clever. Although he had drawn on medicine that he himself had practised (mainly the case involving his cancer patient Dr. Ezra Powell), it had been suitably fudged, and the argument materialised as a series of hypotheticals rather than factual statements supported by evidence. The other camouflage tactic resided in its presentation. Rather than straightforward prose, he had resorted to the format of a Socratic dialogue whereby the participants 'Dr. Perlmutter' and 'Dr. Davids' posed and answered questions. The result, he had to admit, was a characteristically brilliant academic paper, even if it wasn't yet finished.

Suddenly his phone buzzed on the desk. He glanced over to see a message from Cameron, likely telling him what a great time she was having in the bar. The thought that he should probably ignore it flashed through his mind. But they rarely texted so it might be important. Plus he missed her. _How's the paper going?_ , it read.

 _Pretty well. Progress has been good_ , House typed back, taking a sip of whiskey.

She replied almost immediately. _That's great. Remember, you promised I could read it!_

_Yeah, yeah. You out painting the town red, then?_

_Haha, no. I think you have a misleading impression of my personal life. It's not all jello shots and wild sex, y'know x_

House smiled to himself, picturing her mock exasperation. _That's really disappointing._

 _Well_ , she returned in a flash, _I have jello shots. The wild sex part will be the issue. What's a girl to do when her man is away at war?_

The nephrologist sat back a little in his chair. It would be better for his concentration if they steered clear of intimate talk. Best to keep it neutral. Rather than reply to her question he asked one of his own. _Did you have a good afternoon off at least?_

Cameron didn't take long to reply. _Yep. Went to lunch with F and C, did some shopping, went for a run, played clarinet. Nothing fancy x_

House exhaled, telling himself he was pleased she had accepted a return to safe conversation. _That reminds me. I still want to play music together._

_Tomorrow?_

_OK._

_Mid-afternoon? What time will you be done, you think?_

House thought it through briefly. If he was honest, the paper was unlikely to be finished by then. It was looking like a Sunday/Monday job. Still, he didn't fancy going three nights without Cameron. _More like evening probably. But I'll likely have to dash off Sunday morning to put pen to paper._ When the muses called, there was no escape.

_No problem. Mine or yours?_

_Yours_ , he replied. But he thought it sounded too abrupt, so he added: _if that's OK? Could use a change of scenery._

 _Well, I'll have to kick out my other boyfriend earlier than usual but should be fine_. The diagnostician grinned. He'd used a similar line on her at Wilson's place. Before he could reply he could see she was typing, so waited. _Listen, I need your medical opinion on something. I went for a shower after my run and I've got something on my body. Not sure what to make of it. Would you take a look if I send you a picture and we can do a differential over text?_

House's heart sank. The likelihood that a woman Cameron's age would have something seriously wrong with her was low. But then again, she was an excellent doctor herself, and if _she_ was unsure what this thing was, it made him nervous. He typed rapidly, making a couple of mistakes. _What kind if thong? A lump? A rash?_

_It would be easier if I showed you. But I don't want anyone else knowing about it. Not even Wilson. Doctor/patient confidentiality, right?_

The man experienced a sudden flash of tension-provoked irritability at her state-the-obvious attitude and, to his own annoyance, momentarily slipped into text speak. _Yes yes of course..make sure u get a good light on it. I need 2 see the colour and size._ House's mind raced as he thought through possible diagnoses. Lumps could be anything from backed-up faeces to hernias to cancers. Cancer was unlikely, though if the lump was in the breast…but he'd seen her breasts recently and was sure they were clear. But then again, he'd skimmed over the area pretty quickly and he didn't know if it ran in her family. As for rashes, that was a whole different ball game: if it lost its hue when pressed, if it was wet or dry. But Cameron would know all this. Which made him even more concerned. _How's it going?_ , he typed impatiently.

The next message he received contained an image which he opened immediately and with some apprehension. As soon as it had loaded, however, he let out a breath, whether of relief or arousal he wasn't sure. It was an image Cameron had taken of herself wearing cut-off jean shorts and a gossamer-thin top, under which she had on only a baby blue lace bra. The button of the shorts was undone, revealing a tantalising sliver of matching underwear. The accompanying caption read: _So what're your initial thoughts? It feels pretty uncomfortable_.

House swallowed but tried to regain the initiative. _I was really worried for a moment there, Cameron. I thought you were being serious…_

_I am being serious, House. Deadly serious. Now what's your diagnosis, doctor? Do you think it's life threatening?_

The nephrologist knew he should get back to the presentation, but he couldn't draw his eyes away from the screen and her unbelievably sexy outfit. For some reason Odysseus and the Sirens flashed through his mind again. The internal battle between his brain and libido raged for all of three seconds. _It's hard to make out. I'd need to see more of the relevant zone._

Cameron's next picture was taken from a higher angle, and she looked directly into the lens with a finger hooked on her lower lip in mock concern. No clothes had been removed but she'd hiked the top up and shimmied the shorts down her hips, completely exposing her frilly panties. _Is this better, Dr. House? I think it could be lupus_.

The other chuckled despite himself, taking a sip of his drink. _It's too early to say. More evidence is required before we can jump to any conclusions_.

 _You're right_ , she replied. _That's one thing I've learnt from being under you_ … The message was left hanging, but she soon started typing again. This time she'd aimed the camera at the floor to ceiling mirror. The shorts and top were gone, kicked to one side on the floor. The bra looked new, and virtually sheer. His eyes raked over her body which glowed in the subdued lighting of her room. With her spare hand she'd pulled down on the blue waistband, almost revealing herself to his view. _How's this?_ , read the caption, _I seem to be turning blue. Should I be concerned? At least it matches your eyes._ House didn't know this, but she had bought them today for precisely this reason.

"Fuck…", House whispered out loud, his noodles and paper completely forgotten as he rearranged his jeans, which had suddenly become uncomfortable. _It looks serious, Cameron. In my professional judgement, the affected areas need to be removed before they can cause further damage._

_Wow, that sounds bad. You're saying the whole thing must go? Are you sure?_

_Yes. You can trust me. I'm a doctor._ House appreciated the subtext to Cameron's words. These pictures were for his eyes only.

 _Well, OK, if you think it's for the best_. In the next message, as he anticipated, she was completely naked. But she had positioned herself in such a way that left just a little to his imagination. The camera must have been propped at the foot of the bed because she was lying on her front looking straight into it, her green eyes alight with familiar mischief, her mouth set in a wide smile. From this angle he discerned the contour of her breasts, even though the shadow was heavy, and her chocolate brown hair tumbled down to the bed. Over her left shoulder the swell of her butt was just visible. As he had told himself many times, this woman really was stunningly beautiful, and this was the content of his reply. _Yeah, yeah. Be careful with those pictures, old man. Don't want you to have a heart attack._

 _I'll take care of them, babe,_ he returned.

 _You did_ _**not** _ _just call me that!_

 _Are you wanting a picture of corporal House to even the score?_ , he asked with a smile. Cameron made him feel lighter than he felt he had any right to be.

_Nah. You can pay me back some other way._

_Sure thing. Are you off to bed, then?_

_I guess so. You?_

House had half a mind to ride to Cameron's this very second, but the scotch buzz put a stop to that. There was simple recklessness and then blatant stupidity. _Soon_ , he typed back. _I have a personal errand to complete before I sleep._

_Enjoy yourself. See you tomorrow xx_

_Look forward to it. Sweet dreams._

The siren's song would remain unanswered for tonight. But tomorrow was another matter entirely.


	68. Interloper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cameron's bedroom speech is lifted straight from season 1 episode 3, 'Occam's Razor' so I take zero credit for that. As ever, big thanks to readers, commenters, and kudosers. Stay safe out there!

The next morning Cameron was in her slacks and t-shirt busy completing little jobs around the apartment and sorting out her laundry. She was a person who loved cleanliness and order in her home. Every weekend the place was cleaned – carpets vacuumed, wooden floors swept, garbage removed, sheets changed, picture frames and shelves dusted. Since childhood, her parents had insisted on the need for discipline in her domestic as well as professional life. The tendency gave her a somewhat detached air when it came to boyfriends, more than one of whom had complained that they had felt like a visitor in her home. No apologies had been extended. This was her realm, and she brooked no interlopers.

In her daydreaming moments, Cameron had begun to wonder how House would cope with her peculiarities if the time ever came that their relationship progressed to living together. These were never more than idle musings, since it was still early days and, as she had confided to Foreman more than once, she didn't want to jinx anything. But still, if the time arrived, it didn't hurt to think about what might happen, just for fun. Would he accept her for who she was, as she had him? Or would he demand she fit into his patented blend of ordered chaos? And, most pressing of all, would _she_ allow him to breach the high walls of her citadel? The answers to these questions were unknown, except for the last.

Cameron was on the point of stripping her bed when she heard a knock on the door. It was probably the next-door neighbour asking her to fill in a petition he had circulated two weeks prior. In truth, she had barely scanned it – something about evicting a young couple elsewhere in the building. The immunologist spent so little time at home that she didn't really think it appropriate to involve herself in apartment block politics. The neighbour had knocked last Saturday as well, but she had been at House's place, so instead he'd left a reminder under the door and an accompanying list of grievances.

Cameron sighed and prepared herself for a confrontation. But when she put her eye to the peephole and saw who it was, she beamed and opened the door instantly. "This is a surprise. I wasn't expecting you 'til later!".

House couldn't stop a smile breaking across his face at his girlfriend's obvious delight. "Well, you know me. I'm a big fan of surprises where you're concerned. Hi", he said, kissing her. "May I enter the premises, madame?".

The brunette ran a hand through her hair but didn't immediately move aside. "Er, well, the thing is, you've sort of come at a bad time".

"Oh?", asked House, eyebrows raised. "So, you weren't kidding about the boyfriend, then?".

"Nothing like that. It's just, my place is, er, a bit messy. I normally clean before you come round, and I haven't changed my sheets…". Cameron fidgeted a little in the doorway, embarrassed that this particular character flaw was being revealed.

The nephrologist tilted his head. "Hmm. Well, what if I say that I don't mind about any of that?".

Cameron sighed. "You can come in, but I just want you to know that you caught me unawares a bit, and I'm still mid-chores".

"No problem. Also, I brought us lunch. Made it myself". House entered, removing his shoes before moving into the living room and looking around. There were a few books and cushions out of place, a couple of items of clothing still to be folded, but all in all it looked pretty well-ordered. "Umm. Were you joking about it being messy, or…?".

"Terrible, isn't it. Sorry. If you just give me a minute, I'll get it all tidied up and we can eat". Cameron looked inexplicably depressed and House realised that she was a fastidious cleaner, obviously used to getting everything sorted before guests arrived. Suddenly, an epiphany struck. Every time they'd gone out, she'd looked flawless: the dresses, the tight tops and jeans, the seductive outfit last night, even the casuals she'd worn whilst watching _Airplane!_ , all of it had been carefully picked out for his benefit. But here she was in her cleaning scrubs, unmade up, unguarded. Just normal Cameron. Something about her vulnerability melted his heart.

"Cameron, come here", he said, holding out a hand which she took. "This place, right now, is lovely. But you are even lovelier still".

"Oh, stop it. I'm just wearing sweats", she retorted shortly, still uncomfortable.

"I mean it. I'm going to tell you something now, and I want you to let me finish, OK?". The brunette looked at him warily but nodded. "I love your look. I think you have great taste, and everything you wear makes you seem even more beautiful every time I see you. But, in truth, I don't actually care what you wear. Your dresses are perfect, but all I want to do when I see you in them is to rip them off; your tops are gorgeous but all I want to do is see _you_ underneath. And right now, I _am_ seeing you, as you are, at home, wearing your clothes. I guess all I'm trying to say is, although I love your look, I love _you_ even more. If you still want to clean, I can come back in an hour. But I'm hoping you'll let me let you be you. Or something". House awkwardly tugged an ear, aware that he'd just delivered something of a cheesy speech, which were not his speciality.

Cameron sighed and looked to the floor for a moment. When she met his eyes again, she was smiling. "That was good. Did you practice it on the way up?".

"No. I'm just incredibly smart", he replied. The woman laughed and allowed him to pull her into a hug. "This is actually really great", he murmured into her hair, "because now I'm not the only weird one in this relationship".

"Hmm", she mumbled against his shoulder, "I still feel like, objectively, you are weirder than I am".

"Possibly. Hey, would you mind if we had sex now?", he asked matter-of-factly. "The issue is I've been thinking of you since last night and I just reckon it would be better for my state of mind if I got it out of my system. It's a mental health question, see".

The immunologist kissed him. "I'm all for it, as long as you don't mind week-old sheets".

House thought this probably wasn't the time to confess that he only changed his sheets once a fortnight. At best. "Great. The more Cameron in that bedroom the better. Afterwards, I'll warm the food up. With these containers, though, there wasn't enough room on the bike for my guitar. So, music playing is off the menu".

"What about your paper?".

"Did a bit this morning but not planning on any more today. Will finish it tomorrow".

"OK. Let's go, Greg". Cameron took him by the hand and led him down the hallway, not noticing House's eyes widen in arousal at the use of his first name.

* * *

"So, what's for lunch? I'm peckish", asked Cameron as they lay side by side in the week-old sheets, still panting from their exertions.

"I think you're going to love it. Spent an hour or two this morning slaving away in the kitchen". Actually, House had spent closer to four hours. It had been an early start, something which he generally avoided like the plague. But Cameron had placed her trust in him last night and he wanted to put in some effort. "I made Sunday gravy. For Saturday".

"What's that?". Cameron sat up and retrieved the glass of water from the bedside table. As usual, she hadn't bothered pulling the sheets around herself, and as usual House was distracted. "They're just boobs. Every second person in the world has them", she noted wryly over the rim of the glass.

"More, really, if you think about it. I mean, Chris Christie has a very nice pair". He reached out and took a swig from the same glass.

The woman laughed. "No, but we shouldn't joke about rampant obesity. I read recently that 45% of Americans can be categorised as such".

House shrugged. "It's not just an American problem; more like a Western one".

"Sure, but we're in America, so…", she replied. The diagnostician suddenly rolled over and snored loudly, pulling the covers over his head. "Not a fan of talking points, eh? You shouldn't have brought up Chris Christie, then", Cameron mused, glancing across from her upright position.

"I'm asleep. Shhhhh…", he muttered into the pillow.

Cameron slipped downwards until she was lying on top of him. "Oi, you. Go and make me lunch. This woman needs feeding".

"I need a second to catch my breath. Every time I sleep with you, I feel like I've run a marathon".

The brunette bit his ear. "Do you know what the human body goes through during sex? Pupils dilate, arteries constrict, core temperature rises, heart races, blood pressure skyrockets, respiration becomes rapid and shallow, the brain fires bursts of electrical impulses from nowhere to nowhere, secretions spit out of every gland, and the muscles tense and spasm like you're lifting three times your body weight…". As she spoke, she trailed her hand under the covers to grasp him directly, before continuing: "…it's violent, it's ugly, it's messy. And if God hadn't made it unbelievably fun, the human race would have died out aeons ago". House turned over to meet her eyes but remained quiet as she finished: "men are lucky they can only have one orgasm. Do you know that women can have an hour-long orgasm?".

"That was nicely delivered", he observed as she continued her work beneath the covers. "But you can cut out the God bit next time. It added nothing to your argument".

"Noted. I gave the speech to Chase a couple of years ago. Freaked him out. Did it freak you out, too?". The pair were gazing at each other, their breath mingling.

"No. It makes me want to experiment on you". House shimmied under the covers, dislodging Cameron's hand in the process. "I'll make you lunch in a bit. Got a real hankerin' to eat something else first. Next time you want servicing, all you have to do is ask. I ain't promising an hour-long experience, though. Mouth fatigue is a bitch".

The immunologist laughed but wasted no time in spreading her legs. "That wasn't actually my…ahhh, intention…fuck…".

"I can stop if you want…?", came the slightly muffled voice.

Both of Cameron's hands sped under the duvet to tangle in his hair and prevent disengagement. "Less talk. More…unhh…tongue".

* * *

"So, you never explained Sunday gravy", said Cameron, who was leaning against the kitchen counter watching House busily unpacking the food from his bag.

"It's basically an Italian stew – meatballs, beef thigh, ribs, sausages – slow-cooked with tomatoes, herbs, and stuff. And we'll need to cook some spaghetti. You can manage that, right?", he glanced up, only to see her smiling at him. "Wipe that grin off your face and jump to action. I'm starving".

The immunologist saluted. "It's your lucky day, House. I may suck at rice, but I'm a wizard at (durum) wheat". As she prepared the spaghetti, it brought her satisfaction to note that her earlier ambition to keep House in the kitchen or the bedroom as much as possible was proving successful. Lunch normally consisted of a basic sandwich, a piece of fruit, and a packet of crisps.

"Have you got a giant stewing pot so I can heat this through?", House asked, moving to a cupboard at her gesture. The utensils looked like they were still brand new, and they obviously saw little use. "You need a bigger kitchen, Cameron. No wonder you don't cook much in here".

"Why would I? I've got you now". The brunette gave the pasta a stir, ensuring that it didn't stick, before replacing the lid.

"You shouldn't get used to this. I'm normally pretty lazy when it comes to cooking, as I've said. But you put me in a giving mood".

"Huh. So…if _I_ keep giving, you'll keep giving, too?", she wondered out loud, sidling up to him at the stove.

"Reciprocity makes the world go round", answered House, leaning down to peck her lips before turning back to the stew. "How's the pasta looking? This is almost done". The smells emanating from the pot made the mouths of both doctors water.

Cameron checked on the contents of her pan, fishing out a couple of strands to check consistency. "It's ready".

"Great. Let's plate up".

* * *

Following a delicious lunch, House and Cameron retreated to the bedroom for the rest of the day. Both were sat up in bed that night doing their own thing. The former was browsing the internet on his phone while the latter read her book. Suddenly she put it down and looked at her neighbour in surprise. House noted the movement. "You OK?", he asked, not drawing his eyes from the screen.

"I've just realised that I never did finish my cleaning. Nor have I changed these sheets".

"I'd say that was interesting, but I'd be lying", he replied still flicking through tabs on his device.

"This is the first Saturday I've not cleaned properly since…I don't even know when".

Finally, the nephrologist did meet her gaze. "Ruin your plans, did I? Threw a giant spanner in the works?".

"Yeah. You _loped_ into my apartment unannounced and upset the apple cart". Cameron chuckled softly to herself, before adding: "you're an _inter_ loper".

House shrugged. "I've been called worse things".

The immunologist grinned. "Like what?".

He dropped the phone into his lap as he thought. "Hmm, let's see. Y'know that British babe I told you about? The one I learnt cricket for?". Cameron nodded, remembering the tale from an earlier date. "Well, she called me an 'utterly hideous beast' once".

"Was it deserved?", she asked.

"Totally. But worth it. Beasts are, like, uniquely terrible in English culture". Cameron laughed. "What about you? Have you been called anything bad?", he queried.

"My boss called me lobby art a while ago", she returned in a flash.

"Hah, nice. You're sharp. You know I meant it as a compliment though, right?".

"I know". She patted his cheek reassuringly before carrying on: "an ex called me a cold-hearted bitch. That wasn't especially pleasant".

House nodded slowly. "Was it deserved?".

"Yes".

The two lapsed into a comfortable silence. "Well", sighed House eventually, "I think you're great…Allison".

"Upon reflection, I think I prefer it when you call me 'Camster'", she replied thoughtfully. "'Allison' just sounds weird coming from you. I don't mind it every now and then for emotional impact, but probably not as a regular thing".

"Thank God. I don't like 'Allison' either. I only used it to make you feel better".

"Just being here with you makes me feel better".

"Even though I'm an interloper?", he teased.

" _Especially_ because you're an interloper. You've stormed into my life, House. It's a fitting term for you".

House merely grunted in response, picked up his phone and returned to browsing. Cameron followed suit with her book. Nothing except an occasional page turn and steady breathing punctured the quiet that soon descended upon the room, its atmosphere of calm contentment a soothing accompaniment to its occupants' thoughts.


	69. Stalking in the Serengeti

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 69. No sex. Sorry. If it's any consolation, there is sex pencilled in on the calendar, but we ain't there yet.

The diagnosticians were finishing up their initial differential the following Tuesday. Foreman had assumed his usual position at the head of the table, as if to subtly suggest dominance over his colleagues. Chase and Cameron occupied the chairs to the side. All three had a copy of the case file on the table before them, flicking through it to check the patient notes sent over from Holy Cross hospital. House was at the whiteboard listing and striking off suggestions as they arose from his team. There was a fair bit of ink but not many concrete options. "Hepatitis A?", suggested Cameron.

"Serologies are negative", stated Foreman. "I'd suggest garden variety appendicitis, but he's been in pain for a few days and you'd think it would have ruptured by now".

"Hmm. Hepatic fibrosis also fits". Chase added, running a hand through his surfer blonde hair.

"And lead poisoning", returned Cameron, glancing once more through the report. "They didn't do a metals screening at Holy Cross".

"I'm liking Wombat's suggestion more, if only because we've had a poisoning case fairly recently and the odds of a second one in quick succession are slim, but it can't hurt to cover both. Liver angiogram to check for fibrosis and a heavy metals test". House circled their choices before spinning the marker between his fingers. As he did so, he glimpsed Wilson wandering past the department with Mathilde beside him. They looked happy. _Time for a spot of reconnaissance_. "What are you three still doing here?", he said, suddenly noticing that no one had moved. "Carry out my orders, double stat".

The three fellows filed out. Cameron had not seen Wilson from her position at the table, but she had spotted a sly look come over her partner's face. After several years of working attentively under House, and now with a few months' romantic experience up close as well, the immunologist considered herself a proficient interpreter of the man's moods. Only Cuddy and Wilson surpassed her expertise, though even they likely did not appreciate the tiny signals that only love's curiosity noticed: the flash of a glance, the twitch of a lip, the dart of a tongue. House was up to something. Rather than question him directly, though, she decided to leave him to it. No doubt the reason for his expression would become clear at some point. Besides, there was a patient to treat.

The nephrologist gave his quarry a few moments' head start. Cameron had told him a while ago that his espionage skills left a lot to be desired. Improvements had been made in method, and he was fairly confident that Wilson would be none the wiser. The first step was to observe from afar his prey in their natural habitat. Then, once he had got a feel for their routine, he would move in for a closer look. In practice, this would entail questioning of Mathilde especially, since he already knew his best friend's own motivation. House, however, was self-aware enough to acknowledge his effect on strangers: something about him encouraged suspicion and/or mild animosity in most people. And Mathilde was likely to be on guard in any case since Wilson must have warned her already to expect a visit.

As House left the department and followed a way behind the oblivious couple, being sure to keep a number of doctors and patients between them, he thought briefly on a plan of action. The ideal was a face to face interview, but depending on the woman's preparedness, it may be necessary to enlist help. To his knowledge, Mathilde had never met Cameron; or at least, never been introduced to her. House paused in the corridor, allowing a gurney to hurtle past. Up ahead, the pair skirted the corner, causing the diagnostician to quicken his pace. Just in time he saw them head up the stairs to radiology.

For the next fifteen minutes, House was led on a merry chase around the hospital. If he didn't know any better, he'd think they were aware of his shadowing and doing it on purpose. But House also knew that Wilson liked to spend his mid-morning break having a stroll. So, there was a good chance that this was simply the route he favoured. In any case, the nephrologist kept pace until Mathilde diverted at the nurses' station. No kiss goodbye. This was understandable – the hospital was accepting of relationships but strongly discouraged public displays of affection. Rather than head straight back to oncology, Wilson turned 180 degrees and waved at House with a cheeky grin. The latter merely scowled back. Rumbled. Time for Plan B.

* * *

The next morning the diagnosticians were at the whiteboard again. "Lead poisoning is out. The heavy metals scan is clear", said Foreman, glancing around the table.

"And arrhythmia and elevated LFTs rule out hepatic fibrosis", added Cameron.

"So…heart and stomach", mused House, pen in hand.

"Gastritis? No, only explains the stomach not the heart". Chase.

"And atrial fibrillation explains the heart but not the stomach". Foreman.

"What about Legionnaire's? We'd need to take a look at his apartment to be sure, but the symptoms fit if we allow for the pneumonia being hidden behind acute dehydration and fever". Cameron's suggestion brought nods from her colleagues, and they waited for their boss to complete his own internal process.

"I like it", said House finally. "Cameron and Foreman go to his place and look for a ramshackle air conditioner or something. Remember to check under the sink. And take a couple of spare petri dishes for good measure".

"And me?", asked Chase, slightly perturbed at the prospect of having nothing to do.

"You're gonna help me scan the dude's brain. Might need your burly Australian cattle-handler shoulders to keep him steady".

"But Legionnaire's has nothing to do with the brain", interjected Foreman.

"Holy crap, you're right. Fine, I just have a real yen for seeing a man's brain scan. I try and do one brain a week, y'know, to keep me regular. You lot should try it. Let's go, skippy. Papa House has things to do".

What his fellows didn't know was that Mathilde was posted to neurology for the entire day. When he had been scoping Cameron out months ago, House found that observing her performance had been useful. Obviously, the nurse worked on rotation, and she was required to help out if necessary. It would be interesting to judge how Chase and Mathilde interacted at close quarters, when there was an important job to complete, because it would give clues towards her feelings for Wilson. Would she be professional and kind, demanding, or maybe cold? Would she try and catch Chase's eye? Information was needed, and this was an efficient way to gather it while also treating their patient. Sort of.

* * *

"How did you know he was schizophrenic?", asked Foreman that evening. The four doctors were regrouping in the department, the patient having been successfully diagnosed twenty minutes prior.

"Spidey sense" replied House shortly, heading to the adjoining door. "If that's everything, I'm going to work on my paper and/or watch porn in my office. Cameron, wanna come with?".

"Err, I mean, not really". The immunologist glanced over from the sink where she had been washing up their dirty coffee mugs.

"Come on, it'll be fun. We don't have to watch girl on girl. I can stick in a bit of manlove if it'll make you feel better about the whole thing". The diagnostician had a weird look on his face again.

Cameron sighed. "Fine, you get it started and I'll pop along after I've finished these". Foreman and Chase merely rolled their eyes and waved their goodbyes. As they were beginning to learn with House and Cameron, sometimes it was better just to get the hell out of the way if you wanted to stay sane. House glanced at his watch and quickly entered his office, perching on the easy chair by the door and maintaining a clear sightline to the corridor.

Cameron entered a minute or two later. "I don't see much sexy hot action going on, to be honest. Not that I'm complaining".

"I just said that to get Beavis and Butt-Head out of here. I have a job for you".

"Is it an actual job, or a stupid errand that only you would think constitutes a viable use of my time?", inquired the brunette, who stood with hands on hips.

"OK, now you're just making up words, you silly sausage. Right, listen carefully. Wilson is looking to do the dirty with Mathilde-".

"-so, a stupid errand, then".

" _Anyway_ ", continued House. "I tried following them yesterday, and again today, but unfortunately they were wise to my plans-".

"-do you think it's because your espionage skills are just really, really bad?", interjected Cameron again.

"It's difficult to impart my instructions when you keep butting in, _Lissie_ ", stated the man pointedly. Cameron smirked but remained silent. "As I was saying", he continued once he was sure she was going to remain quiet, "the happy couple are on to me. Which means that I need my beautiful assistant to jump in and take up the hunt".

"You can't be serious".

"Actually, I can. In fact, I'm _deadly_ serious". House winked at the other, intentionally imitating one of her lines from Friday.

Cameron blushed, but soon found a retort. "Not sure how I feel about spying on people. Why have I got to share in your insanity?".

"Because, my dear Camster, we are together. And I would be much _happier_ knowing exactly who is about to stick their claws into my best friend. This is what being in a relationship entails – we average our happiness".

"Average our misery, more like", she muttered.

"That's the spirit. Now, let's get to it: Mathilde is due to wander down this corridor in…", he glanced down at his wristwatch, "…fifty-three seconds. I need you to befriend her. You know the kind of thing that women like to talk about: boybands, the president, cup sizes...".

"Have you ever actually spoken to a member of the opposite sex who wasn't a hooker?", mused the brunette.

"Well, I only speak to you, Cuddy, and my mom. Cuddy, with that rack, it makes complete sense she is one; my mom…though it pains me to say it, I wouldn't be at _all_ surprised; and you…God, please say you are". House got up and gazed at his partner with a new appreciation.

Cameron raised an eyebrow. "You like the idea of me having been with loads of guys before settling on you?".

"Ahh, yes, now that you mention it, you're right. Scratch that. What were we talking about? Mathilde, yeah. Just, I dunno, see if you can be nice, and when you think the time is right probe for some Wilson news".

"But surely Wilson will have told her that we're together? I don't think this plan is going to work", she replied doubtfully.

House waved a hand. "Nah, it'll be fine. Wilson forgets what to say around attractive women, so he probably neglected to mention it. Play it casual, but not _too_ casual; be interested in what she says but remember that you're there to do a job".

"This is ridiculous, House. I suck at spying". Cameron was an honest person by nature, and she disliked going into a new social encounter with an ulterior motive. She and House were dissimilar in that respect: when he had asked her to side-track the gold-poisoning woman last year, her stumbled words did not do the job. Luckily, he'd arrived on the scene soon after and cornered the woman in the bathroom before she could wash away the evidence of her crime.

"No, no, you're gonna be great, honestly". The diagnostician placed a hand on each of her shoulders, before brushing a strand of loose hair behind her ear. "I really need you here. Help me, Obi- _Cam_ Kenobi; you're my only hope".

Cameron's tension fled with House's sorry attempt at humour. "Thanks to you, sir, I know the origin of that quote. I feel disgusted with myself".

House grinned. "As long as you're not disgusted with _me_ , I'm fine with that. Mathilde's gonna be here any second, so get your stalker face on".

"You're a freak, Greg".

"No arguments there. Off you go – do me proud! I'll be waiting right here for your report". With that, the nephrologist shepherded his reluctant secret agent out into the corridor while he took up position at his desk, pretending to work nonchalantly. Cameron returned within forty-five seconds. "That was fas-", he started to say.

"She told me: 'no offence, Dr. Cameron, but fuck off'", the brunette replied pleasantly.

"Did you open with the president or cup sizes?".

"Neither. But I don't think that's why my approach failed".

House nodded thoughtfully, processing the information. "This gazelle is good. We'll need to marshal the full powers of our combined cunning to catch her. Wilson is messing with us".

"Actually, House, he's messing with _you_ ". Cameron flopped into the chair opposite the desk and picked up his cricket ball, lobbing it over.

"You're right", he nodded again, catching it before returning the throw. The two played catch for a few moments. "It's a mad world in the Serengeti. If you want a job done right, you have to do it yourself".


	70. He said, she said

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The case with Dr. Ezra Powell occurs early in season 3 ('Informed Consent') and, strictly speaking, is just after our timeline. But it's an interesting Hameron episode so I'm transplanting it earlier.

Cameron arrived early the next morning in order to write up the case from yesterday and to answer a few outstanding emails. Before leaving last night she'd noticed one from Holy Cross hospital asking after specifics of the just-concluded case. Aside from their personal addresses, all four of them had access to the communal email account, though Cameron had long ago assumed the role of unofficial departmental spokeswoman. Chase and Foreman chipped in occasionally, especially if requests came from doctors or institutions in their respective fields. House never bothered. Undoubtedly this derived chiefly from laziness, but she suspected he also appreciated how uncommunicativeness added to his aura of mystique. And the fact was, it did. In both the personal and the professional sphere.

The immunologist wandered into the department and put coffee on to brew. She had always enjoyed this time of day, when the hospital was quiet and subdued. Most of her paper had been written in the early mornings, before any other fellows made it in. As she hung her coat up, she glanced towards House's office, expecting it to be dark. But surprisingly the man himself was already working at his desk, by the light of a single lamp. No wonder she hadn't noticed it before; and he obviously hadn't noticed her, so engrossed did he look in the task at hand. After a brief internal debate concerning whether or not to disturb him, Cameron knocked on the door. "Hey. You're in early".

House looked up, blinking. "It was an accident. I got an anonymous text saying there was cake in my office. And if there's something I love more than food, it's free food. And boobs. But mainly food".

"Would you like a coffee?", she smiled.

"Yeah, but I'd like a kiss even more".

"I think that can be arranged". Cameron walked over to where he was sitting and leant down, meeting his lips with her own.

But as she was about to pull away, he tugged her into his lap, nuzzling her neck. "Hmm", he rumbled, "you smell different".

"You like? I'm sampling a new perfume". Cameron had picked it up from _Victoria's Secret_ last week.

"It's yummy. Vanilla and an undercurrent of spice?". The combination of her scent and smooth skin caused a stir in his pants. The perfume was all the more enticing for its subtlety. House disliked women (and men) who slathered themselves in artificial product. But up close the smell was delicious.

"Well, basically, yeah. But it has a fancy name", replied Cameron, wiggling her butt in his lap.

The nephrologist pulled back a touch. "I love it. But I hope you didn't switch just for me".

"No. I fancied a change. I'd had the old one for a while and variety is, apparently, the spice of life".

"I could not disagree more with that sentiment".

"Unsurprising. You're allergic to change". Cameron prodded him in the chest to emphasise her point.

"If that were actually the case, I'm not convinced we'd be going out at all, silly goose. I thought you were smart".

"That's true", she conceded. "You still haven't told me quite _why_ you were so receptive to my advances upon your return to work. What changed?". The immunologist delivered the question casually, but her heart rate quickened. Of all the questions she wanted answered, this one was top of the list. Something had happened, whether because of the shooting or after it. In a way, the reason was irrelevant, since the desired result had been achieved. But that did not make it any less interesting, or less pertinent. Whatever the case, there can't have been _no_ reason. House was the most rational man she had ever met and his actions were always explicable.

Unbeknown to the other, House's heartbeat also accelerated, and he tried to smother the inquiry in humour. "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you".

Cameron recognised the diversionary tactic but decided not to push it. "Fine, keep quiet. I bet the answer is boring anyway".

The diagnostician chuckled, appreciative of her tact. "It's not boring, and I will tell you". How that would go was anyone's guess: _yeah, so, while I was lying bleeding on the ground you came to me in a vision where I used robot arms to undress you. Since then, and after weighing your good and bad points with my friends, I thought I'd give us a try. Crazy, huh?_

"When?", she asked, taking advantage of the opening.

"When I'm ready".

The reply was laced with a hint of tension and the woman silently cursed herself for not following her first instinct to let it slide. "No problem. Sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable".

House sighed and pulled her a little further into his lap. "You don't need to apologise. I'm still new to this, to opening up, I mean. It'll just take me a bit of time to…adjust to this new reality. Is that enough, for now?".

Cameron gazed into his blue eyes, which were serious. "It'll always be enough, House. I ask only because I'm interested, but you're allowed to have secrets, or things you only confide in Wilson".

"How did you…?", he asked in surprise at her perception.

"Please. Even I know that it's bros before hoes". As she spoke, the brunette felt him twitch against her butt. "What the…? It wasn't even dirty", she whispered, wiggling again for good measure.

House cleared his throat. "Nah, I just haven't got used to the fact that you're _not_ a cuddly, innocent teddy bear. So when you say stuff like that…I dunno, it's a pretty neat contradiction".

Cameron suppressed a grin. Once more, a theory had been proven correct. This time, it was a hypothesis she'd alighted on following their sprint up to Diagnostics a few weeks back. _I ought to keep score_. "Well", she murmured into his ear, "I can be cuddly, House, if you want. I can be your, ah, 'hoe', if you want. I told you, on our first night together, that you can use me. I told you: I'm your willing… _slut_ ".

This final word, delivered against his stubble, caused House to harden fully. The fact that they were in the relative formality of the office made the situation even more erotic. "Mmm", he swallowed. "I don't think I'll ever see you as a hoe".

"What if I dyed my hair blonde?". Another twitch. The immunologist made a show of looking down innocently. "Oops, that looks painful. Was I the cause? I guess you chose the wrong day to wear jeans to work, Greg. Anyways, how about that cup of joe?". Before House could react, she sprang down and darted to the dividing door, flashing him a mischievous grin: "be right back!".

* * *

"You must be nearly finished with the paper now, surely?", asked Cameron as she returned carrying two mugs of coffee.

House accepted his drink with a tilt of the head and sat back, appraising the computer screen for a moment or two. "Yeah, pretty much. Just need to finish a few housekeeping jobs and it should be good to go".

"So I can read it later?".

"You can. But I do need to run something by you before I start handing it out. I promised both Foreman and Chase a section as well, remember".

The immunologist settled into the chair opposite the desk. "Sup?".

House picked up the oversized tennis ball and span it on the wood with one hand. What he was about to say could go one of two ways; hence why he had put it off for so long, and also why he had kept his cards close to his chest. "So, you know it's on euthanasia. What you probably don't know is that it's based off our experience with Dr. Ezra Powell. I've changed all the names, hidden the dodgy bits, and presented it as a hypothetical scenario. But I wondered if you were OK with me writing up that case, since it was kinda full-on for you".

Cameron was silent for a long time, weighing the other's words while considering her own. When she finally spoke, her tone was careful, even timid. "I, I…did what you suggested, with him, _to_ him, in the end. No one saw me. Do you understand what I'm saying?". Powell had begged them to end his life. House had found her weeping in the hospital chapel afterwards.

The nephrologist reached across and covered her hand with his own. "Yes. And you were right to do so. I've never been prouder of you than I was then. But I take full responsibility for the progression of…events. Nothing that happened was your fault".

Cameron shuddered. "I helped a man die, House". There was no use tip-toeing around the reality.

"On my orders", he interjected firmly.

"Are you sure your paper needs _that_ case? Can't you focus on something else? There's still time for you to rewrite". She knew the request was unfair – after all, House had been the driving force and he deserved the opportunity to publish.

"It's precisely because it was so hard that I need it. Even leaving aside the astronomically high zebra factor, Powell forced us to confront reality, to ask uncomfortable questions. We have a duty as doctors to present the medicine. And I think he was correct to insist on his right to die. But…", he paused, taking a deep breath, "…if you really object, I can pull my punches and try something else".

At this, the brunette looked up. "Really?".

"Yes".

Cameron sighed. House's genius, his need to seek answers amid seeming chaos, was his very identity. This was what had attracted her in the first place. But if she were to play censor now, just to avoid unpleasant memories, she'd consider herself a hypocrite. Being with House was a package deal – she couldn't just pick and choose elements of his perspective that sat right with her while conveniently ignoring, suppressing, or explaining away the rest. It was all or nothing. "No", she said, "you should present your paper as is. Just because I'm conflicted about my own role in the whole thing doesn't mean it should impact what _you_ do. Besides, it was pretty fantastic medical deduction on your part".

"Well, I couldn't have done it without my trusty sidekicks".

"We're protected, though? The science is sufficiently camouflaged?". The prospect of what might happen should House's paper backfire caused adrenaline to surge through her body. There'd be formal investigations, police involvement, court appearances. But worst of all, their relationship would probably collapse under the stress. Once more she shuddered.

"Yes. I've spent a lot of time on this, and Wilson's read it through as well. If it passes _his_ pathetically rigorous ethical eye we should be fine", replied the other, still holding her hand reassuringly.

"But if it's not? What if people realise that the subject is not hypothetical at all?", asked Cameron worriedly.

"Then I'll say that I helped Powell die and that you had nothing to do with it. Everyone at the time knew your reservations, and they knew that you sat out treatment. There's no reason for you to be implicated".

"But you'd still be _lying_ for me. I don't like that. I should be the one to face the music if it goes south".

"No". The nephrologist replaced the tennis ball and his eyes took on a flinty quality.

"It's not your decision to make, House. I'm responsible for that man's death and I won't let you fall on your sword for me". Cameron met his gaze firmly and the two stared at each other across the desk.

"It _is_ my decision. I was in charge, I was responsible, and this is my paper. If people start asking questions, you're to keep quiet and let me do the talking". Outside in the hallway, conversation and footsteps filtered through the glass.

The other tilted her head. "Are you suggesting this as my boyfriend or telling me as my boss?".

"Whichever will get you to do as I ask". House folded his arms.

The brunette chewed her lip, recognising his stubbornness. "Fine", she relented finally. "But if the shit hits the fan-".

"-it won't. You're fretting for nothing. The most that'll happen is I get a few probing questions from the audience and some morally outraged reviews when I submit it for publication. Nothing I can't handle". Now that the tension had been resolved, he took a sip of his coffee which was cooling rapidly.

She held up a hand. " _If_ it hits the fan, we'll need to discuss a plan of action that doesn't involve me watching helplessly from the sidelines. And that's non-negotiable".

"Alright", conceded House, "we'll play it by ear".

"Good". Cameron took up her own drink and the two remained in silence for a few moments. "Why can't you be a normal doctor", she questioned eventually, "publishing perfectly respectable articles on kidney disease or diabetes every year or so? Why must you court controversy in everything?".

The diagnostician snorted. "You've known me long enough to answer that yourself, Cameron. If you want a normal doctor as a boyfriend then I can point you in the direction of a certain oncologist a few doors down. And a certain Australian intensivist who can be found most days working under this very roof".

"Bleh", she retorted, green eyes twinkling. "I'll stick with you, but only because your hair is thinning up top and you need me on your arm to soften the blow". The thought of going back to sleeping with Chase, having now become used to House, was enough to eradicate the last vestige of irritability she felt towards the latter.

"Hah, good one. Speaking of being on my arm, Cuddy's forcing me to attend a departmental soirée in a couple of weeks. The Townsends are going to be there. You fancy coming along as my date?". House felt nervous asking, even though he knew her answer. It would be their first appearance in public as a couple.

"Sounds great. I don't want Fiona trailing after you like a bitch in heat, anyway". Already Cameron was considering what she could wear to mark out her territory.

"Rude", he replied, eyebrow raised.

"Not. A bitch is a female dog. Nothing rude about that. Anyway, you calling me rude is like the pot calling the kettle black".

"Racist".

Cameron shook her head. "Are you gonna send me the article or what, buster? Time's ticking on: we leave next week, and I want to enjoy it at my own pace".

"I will", said House, taking another sip of coffee.

"When?", she replied, folding her arms and trying to look threatening.

"I'll tell you 'when' at the bowling alley tomorrow night. Alley Cats at 7. Be there or be square, Camster".

"If you think being mysterious will make me like you more…then you'd be right", she grinned, quickly putting aside her disappointment that they wouldn't be seeing each other this evening.

"It's almost like we're made for each other, eh? High five, sister". House extended his palm, and Cameron slapped against it with a giggle just as Foreman entered the adjoining office to signal the start of the working day.


	71. Victory dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For such a grumpy guy, House dances at least twice in the series. Both times with Cuddy. _This_ time you can blame Cameron, not me.

The three fellows were eating lunch together the next day. Generally each did their own thing, but every now and then they found time to meet up in the cafeteria to trade war stories or complain about their boss. As Cameron had confided in Cuddy a while back, working for House was rarely dull, and the shared experience would always give the trio something to talk about.

The funny thing was that the rest of the hospital knew it as well. More than once the brunette had been approached in the lunch queue by a hopeful male doctor, his opening gambit often mentioning how terrible it must be to work under the grumpy diagnostician. The tactic was doomed to failure. Even before they became an item, she had never found him truly irksome: quirky, yes; irritating, definitely. But terrible? Not a chance. As for Chase and Foreman, she knew that both had used their 'in' with House to pick up women. The latter, of course, was still going out with Katie, a drug rep initially sent _to_ House, and who was the subject of their conversation. "She's still angling for more of a commitment from me is the thing", he said.

Chase slurped his Sprite. "Not keen?".

"I've given it some thought and decided that I don't love her. But I am still absolutely fine with the casual arrangement we have currently". Foreman was chewing through his baked potato with cheese.

"Of course you are", snorted the Australian. "Sex with no strings attached".

"Well, I made it clear at the start that we weren't exclusive. I don't think it's unreasonable to want to stick to that. What do you think, Cameron?".

"It's not unreasonable, no", she replied, replacing her ham and tomato sandwich and taking a sip of water. "But maybe her feelings have grown stronger over time and the situation has changed…", as she spoke these words her mind flitted inevitably back to House and the emergence of their own relationship, "…such that she's no longer satisfied with what you're willing to offer".

"If that's the case then it's a problem", grunted the neurologist.

"What's wrong with her, anyway?", asked Chase. "She seemed fine to me: attractive, warm…".

"She's boring, to be honest. We don't really talk about much outside of the bedroom, and when we do talk, it's dull". At this, Cameron and Chase exchanged looks. Foreman saw: "what?".

"Er, she sounds perfect for you, man. I'm your pal, and you're not the liveliest companion I've ever had. No offence".

"Huh? Are you being serious?". The man seemed genuinely surprised.

"I think what Chase's trying to say is that you're obviously incredibly driven and career-focused and, y'know, sometimes it impacts your, er, conversation", interjected Cameron.

Foreman put down his coffee. "What the…? Are you calling me boring?".

"No. Just that you're an acquired taste. But Chase and I like the way you taste", said the immunologist, immediately regretting the phrasing.

Chase made a face. "Ehh, I don't wanna speak for you, Cameron, but I'm not tasting Foreman whether he's boring or not".

The woman sighed. "No, but- you know what I meant, Robert".

"Oh, we're back to the first name game, Chase", began Foreman, before winking at Cameron across the table. Last time she had used this tactic both her colleagues had immediately poked fun. It looked like today would be no different. "Well, I can't say I haven't thought about you tasting me, Allison. But I just don't think we'd work. I think I'd rather stay friends. Is that OK, Allison?".

Chase chuckled, piling on himself. "Are you going to finish off those crisps, Allison? This soup isn't very filling and I need to get Eric's taste out of my mouth".

"You two are the worst", she complained, but not without an amused head shake. In truth, she much preferred it when they treated her as one of the guys, like now, rather than the indirect manner of Chase's flirtation and Foreman's 'older brother' vibe. Office dynamics were always interesting and the fact that Diagnostics was overwhelmingly masculine meant that she frequently found herself navigating a course between the men who occupied three quarters of her professional time. And now that the relationship with House was in full swing, the task didn't get any easier. Even with everything out in the open, the two of them had an unspoken rule not to get too crazy while within departmental bounds. Nevertheless, Cameron was still holding out hope that House would indulge the fantasy she had confessed to him a while ago regarding rough sex in the office.

"You thinking about my taste, Allison?", grinned Foreman. "Your eyes were completely glazed for a moment there".

Cameron cleared her throat, shunting House to the back of her mind. "Nah, just wondering about the Chicago Bears game this weekend. We're up against Green Bay and there's no way Foles is gonna withstand the heat of their defensive line".

The mouths of both doctors fell open. "Since when do you like American football?", asked Chase incredulously.

"I'm from Chicago. Everyone likes sports there, even if they don't _like_ like sports. I belong to the latter group. Though I really prefer the Eagles. Philadelphia", she added in response to the Australian's confused look.

"I never understood why you Yanks insist on giving nicknames to all your teams", he said.

"Probably to befuddle hapless foreigners like yourself", suggested the neurologist.

Cameron chuckled. "'Befuddle' is a good one. You don't hear that word much nowadays".

"True. And it's weird, 'cos I'd say that old Robert here is in a perpetual state of befuddlement". As he spoke Foreman nudged and winked at his companion.

Chase rolled his eyes. "What're you ribbing me for, mate? We were doing it to Allison".

"Yeah, well, when you mentioned Yanks I thought I'd switch sides to my lovely female colleague. Australia sucks, America number one".

Cameron smiled, pleased to have turned the tables. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Mathilde depositing her tray on the rack while speaking to a colleague. Although the nurse had been decidedly cool the last time they had met, there was nothing wrong with approaching her again. In any case, House had asked Cameron for her help in judging Mathilde's affection for Wilson, and even though she herself considered it a ridiculous reason to poke around another person's personal life, it obviously mattered to House. And that alone was sufficient motivation for a second attempt at conversation. "I'll see you guys back at the office, OK?". Foreman and Chase had resumed their chat about Katie and they merely nodded as she left the table and made her way over to the rack.

Mathilde finished her conversation and turned to see Cameron waiting for her. "Before you say anything, is this a professional or a personal approach?", she asked with just a hint of annoyance.

"Honestly, it's a bit of both. Do you mind if I walk with you for a couple of minutes?", asked Cameron, dropping off the tray and falling into step beside the other woman.

The other sighed but nevertheless inclined her head in assent. "Fine, I've got five minutes left on lunch and then I'm due in paediatrics. You can join but you're in for a bit of a hike".

"No worries. Are you enjoying it over there?". This was not just polite conversation. Cameron loved children, and she had completed placements there herself. In fact, if she were not such a freak for immunology, paediatrics would have been her chosen specialism.

Mathilde's air of antagonism softened a little. "Yes, it's my favoured area".

"Mmm, it's pretty great, isn't it?". The two chatted easily for a few minutes, ambling towards their destination.

Finally, the nurse spoke up. "So, shall we get down to business? James has told me to expect this. To be honest, I'm a little offended that House didn't come to see me himself".

"He thought it might be less confronting if I spoke to you woman to woman". A slight elaboration of the truth, but it couldn't be helped. House's plan, which he had outlined during catch in the office, involved actual kidnapping. Cameron had vetoed _that_ one straightaway, and it had taken her a solid fifteen minutes to talk him into affording her a second opportunity to make contact.

"I find that hard to believe. But I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. What would you like to know?".

* * *

Later that afternoon Cameron walked into House's office to see him still typing away at the computer. "Sup?", he asked, though not turning away from the screen. "Paper is finished". Instead of replying, the immunologist began to sway her hips slowly, gradually picking up speed. After a few moments, she added in arm waves and finger clicks. The sound caught House's attention and he watched in shocked amusement as his normally reserved girlfriend did a little dance around the perimeter of his office for a couple of minutes, an occasional pirouette causing her long brown hair to whip her face. When she finally finished, breathing a little heavier, he raised an eyebrow. "Did you win the presidential election or something?".

"That was my dance of victory. I saw Mathilde at lunch: mission complete!", she exclaimed triumphantly.

House smiled widely. "You managed to talk to her about Wilson?".

"Yep", she replied, sinking into the easy chair and continuing the conversation across the room: "had a brief chat with her in the cafeteria then bought her a coffee on afternoon break. She's actually really nice; apologised for telling me to fuck off and everything. Anyway, she filled me in – why things ended with Chase, what she looks for in a guy, what she sees in Wilson".

"Nice! Guess you were right to talk me out of abduction. Hit me with it". For the next thirty minutes the pair discussed everything Cameron had learnt, House interrupting occasionally to pursue a point of detail. "So, she seems genuine?", he asked eventually.

"I think so. I mean, I'm not saying it'll be love, or even that it'll last beyond a month. But I'm sure it's not a rebound".

"Right. Well, that's some great work, Camster. Wilson will screw it up eventually but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it". House span back to his computer terminal, brought up YouTube, and typed in a few words.

Soon, the opening bars of an as yet unidentified piece of music filled the office. "What're you doing, House?". Now it was Cameron's turn to display baffled amusement as she watched him approach with a goofy grin on his face.

" _We_ are going to dance to celebrate your achievement, madame…", House held out his hand, "…I didn't think you'd be able to do it".

The brunette took it, unable to suppress a question born out of naked curiosity. "Since when do you dance?". The diagnostician had proved himself to be fit, even graceful, in his movements since the ketamine treatment. But the idea of House dancing was a strange one. Then again, he had always been playful, and something of a renaissance man. She could still remember walking into his office last year to the sight of him juggling his balls and whiteboard marker.

"Are you kidding? I used to kill it on the dance floor before my…", he trailed off, unwilling to put a dampener on things. "Anyway, I'm in a good mood: I've just finished my paper, you've managed to answer my questions regarding Mathilde and Wilson, _and_ we've got bowling to look forward to later".

Cameron allowed him to pull her close, the glimmer of sadness at his pain quickly forgotten as she felt his hand at her waist. "Do you mean like club dancing or ballroom dancing?".

"Back in my day, they were the same thing". The pair began a slow circuit of the room. Foreman and Chase were nowhere to be seen, but the blinds were not closed either, so they would have presented a strange sight to passers-by who bothered to look through the glass. Neither cared.

"When was that again? 1850?", she whispered into his ear.

"A good year. California joins the Union as the…what number state, do you think?".

Cameron laughed. _Of course he knew a fact about 1850_. "Hmm. Well, it's right on the west coast, so it must be one of the later ones. But _how_ late…?". The music, which was actually Celine Dion, provided a suitably romantic accompaniment to their gentle movements. "I'm gonna guess…the 41st state of this, the United States of America".

"Close, but no cigar. 31st. At least you got one number right, hey?". House span the other into another pirouette before drawing her in again.

"I wouldn't have pegged you for a Celine Dion fan", she murmured, biting his chin delicately.

"It felt appropriate. Are we on for bowling tonight, then? Wilson and Cuddy will be there too. 2 vs. 2. Winning team takes all, losers go home in disgrace".

Cameron felt a twinge of nervous excitement. She had met with both Wilson and Cuddy separately, but this would be the first time they would all hang out together. Day by day little milestones could be ticked off. "Fine. Back to yours afterwards? I prefer your place to mine. Plus, I still need to have a poke around _and_ read your article".

"OK, but it'll have to be tomorrow – you'll be doing something else after bowling tonight, and it _won't_ involve reading". House's spare hand slipped down to her butt.

"Uhuh. I better get the good stuff after helping you with Mathilde". Cameron leant right into his body, brushing against him forcefully.

"That can be arranged", House replied, imitating her phrase from yesterday. The pair kissed before resuming their impromptu afternoon dance, oblivious to everything but each other.


	72. Gutterball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! New chapter time.  
> House rocks at many things in the series, but bowling isn't one of them. House and Chase go bowling in season 4 and the former gets destroyed by the latter. I'm transferring Chase's skills to Cameron.

Cameron arrived at the bowling alley that evening to see Cuddy at the bar by herself sipping a cocktail. The two women embraced. "Hey, Allison. House and Wilson are on the way. You don't mind if we use first names, do you?".

"Of course not. What're you drinking?", replied Cameron warmly.

"An Aviation. It's actually not bad. For a bowling alley. Can I get you one? I remember your policy of never refusing a drink", smiled Cuddy, turning towards the bar and signalling the tender. "Guys must've hated you in college – a bottomless pit of booze and crushed dreams".

The brunette laughed. "I actually wasn't a massive party girl, to tell the truth. You'd be more likely to find me in the library than the sorority house".

"Mmm, I know what you mean. Medicine was so obnoxiously male-dominated in my time that it motivated me to work harder than everyone else, just to be the best".

Cameron accepted her drink and the pair clinked glasses. "Same, though I've always had a strong academic interest in medicine. Leaving the men in my dust was simply a bonus. Saying that…", she added with a hint of defensiveness, "…I _know_ that Foreman is a better doctor than me. Realised it the first day on the job".

Cuddy shrugged. "All three of you are excellent doctors. House wouldn't have hired you otherwise. Correction: I wouldn't have _let_ House hire you otherwise".

"Well, I know why House hired me", said Cameron as she sipped her surprisingly delicious cocktail.

"Let me guess…because you're hot?".

"Yes. But it's fine. I don't mind".

The Dean looked carefully at her companion who was studiously avoiding eye contact. Suddenly it was obvious. House had never _told_ her that he valued her as a doctor, and she had been too self-conscious to raise it. _Ugh_ , _men are stupid_. "House wanted to fire Chase", she said.

"Huh?". Cameron had been lost in her own thoughts and she snapped back to reality.

"During Vogler. Chase was going to be fired, but Vogler forbade it. So rather than fire you, House decided to give the speech. The only reason he did it was to save _your_ job, because he appreciated your contribution. 'I need my immunologist', he said".

The other's pulse quickened. This was a new revelation: she had always assumed House was simply looking for a reason to fire her. Hence the voluntary exit. But to hear that he had actually fought for her was incredibly touching. "But he didn't give the speech", murmured the brunette.

"No. And why is that?", asked Cuddy.

"Because he couldn't sacrifice his principles", she answered.

"Partly, no doubt", agreed Cuddy. "But I think a part was also down to the fact that he was scared of you. Easier to get over it if you're not in his face every day".

"So you're saying it was a defence mechanism?". Now that she thought about it, this was something House had told Cameron just before their first night together – that he was scared of his feelings and where they might lead. But she had not applied that insight to the night of her leaving the hospital. Either way, it made her feel warm to know that he had tried to have her back when things were tough. After all, it was the fear that he genuinely was indifferent to her wellbeing following a brush with their AIDS patient that inspired the one night stand with Chase.

"I don't know. But I do know House thinks you're a damn good doctor. Hey", said the Dean quickly, catching sight of their colleagues approaching, "keep that to yourself. He doesn't like it when I discuss his personal life".

"Evening, ladies", said the diagnostician. "I hope we didn't make you wait too long. Wilson was sorting out his hair".

"You want a drink? I'll get the first round", said the oncologist, retrieving his wallet. Cuddy, meanwhile, excused herself to the bathroom.

"Go on then. The usual", replied House, leaning down to kiss Cameron on the lips.

Before he could disengage, though, she whispered in his ear. "You went in to bat for me. Thank you".

"Not sure what you're talking about, but whatever", he murmured back. "Also, you just used a sports metaphor".

"Huh, you're right", she mused. "That won't happen again, honest".

He grinned, pulling back to accept his drink from Wilson, who immediately moved away to answer a phone call. "Hey, do you like baseball?", asked House.

"Not really. Football I don't mind. But you already know that". Cameron took his scotch and sipped it herself. Though she was not a massive drinker of liquor, spending an increasing amount of time with House had conditioned her to the taste. Whiskey was becoming a comfort in itself, chiefly for the value it held as symbolising that he was somewhere close. The drinks they had shared looking out from atop the hospital roof came back to her. Was it a positive or negative development that she was beginning to associate alcohol with a state of happiness? _Probably the latter_. "What's a good scotch to buy?".

The diagnostician raised an eyebrow. "Depends what kind of flavour you're after: rich and smoky, light and aromatic, fruity or clean aftertaste…".

Cameron handed the drink back. "Well, which do you normally get? Maybe I'll grab a bottle for my place and we can share it when you come over".

"That's sweet. You don't need to fit your drinking habits around me, though".

"It's no trouble", she answered, unwilling to divulge the real reason for why she was growing to appreciate whiskey. Even were he not to consider it faintly pathetic, _she_ did.

"I favour Macallan. You can pick up a twenty-five year old sherry oak for a couple of grand".

Cameron spluttered into her cocktail. "I was thinking more in the $50-60 range".

"Ahh, then you want the Macallan 12. We had that on the hospital roof, if you remember that night".

"I _think_ I remember it, yes, even though I wasn't really focusing on the nuances of what I was drinking at the time", she smiled, tossing him a sly look as Cuddy returned.

"How're we doing this? Every woman for herself or teams of two?". The Dean looked like she meant business.

"I'm thinking the men vs. the wenches. Wilson?", asked House, nudging the oncologist who had finally finished his call.

"Err. Before we settle on teams we need to know how good Cameron is".

"I know how to aim and shoot if that's what you mean", she replied.

"Yeah, see, that's already an issue. House and I are…not very good at all".

"Are you just saying that because you want to trick me?". The brunette found it hard to believe there was something on this planet at which her partner did not excel.

House coughed discreetly. "I mean, look, bowling isn't our strong suit, is it, Jimmy? But I've got a good feeling about tonight. I'm not worried".

"Your funeral, losers. Let's get our shoes and head out to the lanes. Come on, Allison. We're gonna wipe the floor with them". Cuddy winked at the other woman and they set off, leaving their two companions looking askance at each other. This could get messy.

* * *

Wilson sank back into his seat, watching as Cuddy gleefully recorded his third low score in a row. "Not the best there, hey?", she said. The Dean had revealed herself to be intensely competitive. Cameron had found the whole thing incredibly funny, especially as it became clear that their opponents really were awful.

"I think I'm struggling with the weight of the balls. They're too light, like tossing a pillow. I need a nice heavy one". The oncologist took a swig of his beer and looked to House for support.

"There are balls of different weight, man. These excuses are making us look bad", retorted House with a head shake.

Cameron got up, patting his cheek as she wandered over to the conveyor belt to select her weapon of choice. "Well, if we're being _brutally_ honest, what's making you look bad is that neither of you have registered a strike in seven attempts. That's…not ideal". Once she was satisfied, she ambled over to the lane and let rip, her bright orange ball crashing into the pins and sending every single one flying. On the way back to her seat, she high-fived Cuddy, who input the numbers with a satisfied snort.

"It's like a fucking heatseeking missile", muttered the diagnostician to no one in particular, waiting by the belt to retrieve the ball used by his girlfriend. Maybe some of her magic would rub off on him. His first effort clipped the right of the clump, leaving him a square five to clear up second time around, which he managed to do.

Cuddy nodded her appreciation, sinking her own shots as one pin remained unscathed. "OK, team Hilson need to start picking their scores up otherwise Cameruddy are running away with it".

Wilson exhaled loudly. "I got this".

House raised an eyebrow to signal his doubt and sat next to Cameron, draping his arm across her shoulders as she snuggled against him. "Given your skill with balls and all-round athletic ability", she murmured, "I'm surprised you suck at bowling".

The other sniffed airily. "And I suppose given _your_ skill with balls, we shouldn't be at all surprised that you're a dab hand at it, eh?".

"Guilty as charged, sir", she replied as Wilson's first effort, to the surprise of no one but himself, flew straight into the gutter.

"Try aiming a bit more to the left", offered Cuddy helpfully from her position at the scoring terminal.

"Gotcha, thanks", he returned.

"Hmm", whispered House, gazing up at the scoreboard, "you've scored four strikes already".

"Yeah? I've not been counting". Cameron began to pat a rhythm on his knee. The contest was all well and good, but really she was enjoying simply spending time with House and his friends. Indeed, they were quickly becoming _her_ friends, too.

"It's a massive turn on. What colour panties are you wearing? I'm asking for science", he grinned down at her.

The immunologist sighed dramatically but nevertheless leant forwards a touch so that he could glance down her back to the space between her jeans and her body. House swallowed, catching sight not just of the light blue underwear she had worn in the impromptu photo shoot last Friday, but even the delicious swell of her butt. "I like those", he croaked, finding his voice surprisingly thick. A loud throat clear saw to it.

Cameron sat back with a grin of her own. "I know. You can have another drink. I'll drive us back to yours after".

"Oh, now you're just going for bonus girlfriend points, offering to be the designated driver. Unless…", the diagnostician tapped a finger to his lips thoughtfully, "…you're trying to get me drunk so I throw gutterballs. I see through your plan, missy".

The woman whispered in his ear. "I think you can throw gutterballs without my help, mister".

Wilson's next shot, to the surprise of everyone except himself, stayed the course and annihilated all ten skittles. "Boom. That's how we used to do it at McGill. Still got the gift!". He did a little jig up to where House and Cameron were sitting, meeting the former in a high five on the way to retrieving his beer from the table.

"Pipe down. Spares won't win you the game", called the Dean, dutifully inputting the score.

"Gotta celebrate each victory though, don't you?", said Wilson.

"Do you?", asked Cameron, rising to her feet to prepare for her shot.

"I think you do", he replied. The immunologist merely winked in response, waiting to select the ball she wanted. "We're in trouble here", murmured the oncologist to his friend.

House's gaze never left Cameron as he cleared his throat again. "Yeah…I am".

* * *

"You're a liar", said House as the pair were driving home after a bowling session which quickly turned into a rout.

"That's probably true. Do you have a specific instance in mind or is this more of a broad-brush statement?", returned Cameron lightly.

House adopted a high-pitched voice. "'I know how to aim and shoot', she says, before proceeding to obliterize the bowling alley".

"First of all, 'obliterize' is not a word. Second of all, your impression of me? _Uncanny_. Third of all, you're completely right. I rock at bowling. Sue me". Cameron glanced across and patted his knee. "Are you sulking?".

"Are you kidding? It's great. You keep saying you're not a sports fan. But really you are". The diagnostician sat back into the seat and sighed contentedly.

"For the last time, I don't like sports _metaphors_. Sports are fine in moderation. Anyway, bowling isn't a sport".

House, who had closed his eyes for a few seconds, opened one of them. "It kind of is, though".

"Anything which allows you to drink beer and munch nachos while playing is not a sport", she retorted.

"Well, we're not doing that again. It was a massacre, and Cuddy in the throes of victory is, it turns out, pretty annoying". House could complain, but really he quite enjoyed having Cameron involved with both his friends. When things had been going well with Stacy, the four of them had frequently hung out together, and he knew that Wilson at least had kept contact even after she and House had split. In fact, if it were not for Wilson secretly going to visit Stacy, Cameron would never have gone to monster trucks, because she had been asked only after the oncologist had cancelled. Without that evening, things may well have turned out differently. _Then again_ , thought House, _getting shot also contributed_. Fate was a funny thing, especially since it did not exist.

"Oh, come on", complained the brunette, unaware of the other's train of thought. "You just admitted to it being great. How about I join your team next time and we show them who's boss, hey?".

The diagnostician frowned and folded his arms. "Hmm, I could manage _that_ , I suppose".

"And remember: whatever happens, you'll always be _my_ boss". Cameron's voice was cooing, almost teacher-like, as she patted his knee again.

House recognised the tactic as an attempt to turn him on. He went along with it because the attempt was succeeding. "Your boss at home or at work?".

"Both. I've told you before I think you're sexiest when you're in control".

"Hmm", he tilted his head. "Maybe we can bowl together, then. If you can guarantee us a win".

"Nothing is guaranteed, House. But if winning means that much to you, I'll try hard to make it a reality". The brunette kept her eyes on the road but still managed to flash him a smile, and the pair lapsed into silence, watching Princeton pass by the windows. Raindrops flecked the glass steadily and even though it was not yet December, Christmas-themed decorations and billboards studded the shopfronts.

"I won't always be your boss, Cameron", said the diagnostician suddenly.

"You gonna fire me?", she asked.

"I'm serious. If you're still my fellow in three years' time then something has gone terribly wrong". House turned in his seat to regard her profile before continuing: "you're a brilliant doctor, and you have the potential to go far. Right now, this fellowship is serving its purpose, but I want more for you in the long-term. A lot more".

"Did Cuddy speak to you…?", she asked suspiciously, thinking back on the conversation the two had shared before their bowling partners had arrived.

"About what?", he asked, confused.

House's mystified air was enough to convince the immunologist that this conversation topic had arisen spontaneously. "Nothing", she said, before adding: "are you drunk?".

"Tipsy", the other admitted. "But still aware of how I feel about this".

Cameron allowed the silence to grow once again as she considered a response. "It means a lot to hear you say that, House. But I love my job, and I love working for you even more". This was something she had realised many times over her placement, but especially in the weeks after the shooting when the fellows had been temporarily redistributed around the hospital. Normal medicine was fine; diagnostics was exhilarating. There was something endlessly fascinating about the job: running around playing private investigator and solving puzzles that only they knew existed. Her feelings for House did not even need to be added into the equation.

"At some point, though, you'll be applying for a better job. Maybe a head of immunology, or a diagnostics department of your own. You won't be my duckling forever. Nor should you be. _None_ of you should be".

The brunette nodded slowly, appreciating his seriousness. "I understand that. And you know I applied for other jobs when I left during Vogler. I'm happy with my career prospects. What about you?".

"What about me?".

"How do you see your own career trajectory?".

House exhaled softly. As ever, Cameron had asked a question he had not anticipated. "I imagine I'll be at PPTH until I retire. Or get fired, which is probably more likely, tenure or no tenure", he answered truthfully.

"What if I wanted to stay at PPTH, too, with you?".

"There would be opportunities for you elsewhere. PPTH is great, but it's a training hospital; this relationship is great, but I wouldn't be at all comfortable with you sacrificing your career for it. You could work anywhere you wanted".

The car pulled up to the traffic lights and the woman took the chance to look at her partner carefully. "Where is this coming from? You never showed any interest in this stuff before".

"I wasn't in love with you before", he replied instantly. "But now I care about your future as much as, no, _more_ than, mine. How fucking scary is that?".

Cameron was unsure whether to be touched, amused, concerned, or all three. "Fair enough. But is it OK if we punt this debate down the field for now? We're here".

"Right, that's it. You're a hardcore football fan. I don't care what kind of excuses you make", House chuckled before unbuckling and opening the car door.

"Whatever, man", she snorted, following suit. The pair walked into the block hand in hand and entered the apartment, after which Cameron suddenly put on a spurt of speed and jogged down the hallway. "I'm using the bathroom first!".

The diagnostician merely called after her: "when you gotta go, you gotta go!". House sank into the couch and flicked on the television, channel hopping absentmindedly. Before long, a huge yawn materialised. And then another.

A few minutes later, Cameron emerged and slipped into the neighbouring seat. "I'm done…".

But House was fast asleep, snoring softly. The woman smiled faintly. As quietly as possible, she retrieved a folded blanket from the other chair and draped it over his body, brushing her lips to his forehead. Then she turned out the light and padded into the bedroom, leaving the door ajar just in case.


	73. T.M.I. (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for another two-parter. I'd originally intended to cover this in one chapter but it was so much fun I just couldn't condense it. There's a little bit of hanky-panky but nothing too graphic.

The next morning saw Cameron sitting on the sofa eating cereal. On the table lay a fresh cup of coffee and the morning paper which she had found on the doormat and was steadily working through. It had been a while since she had last read a newspaper: normal information channels consisted of a few trusted websites and the odd glance at a television. But there was something comfortably old-fashioned about an ink and paper broadsheet, and it was both a surprise and not that House bothered to have one delivered to his doorstep every weekend. The man himself was still asleep in the bedroom, having stumbled through early this morning.

Once she had made her way to the kitchen upon waking, Cameron half expected to find either a wide array of food or none at all. In the event, she located a box of peanut butter crunch cereal with little difficulty – not particularly healthy but there was a time and a place for everything. Upon taking her bowl to the coffee table she had retrieved her phone from the coat hanging by the door, and that was when she had spotted the newspaper lying in wait, along with a few envelopes. Studiously avoiding examining the latter too closely, she placed them on the kitchen counter and took the paper to the sofa.

It was not until a good thirty minutes of silent reading and crunching had passed did House finally stir, ambling into the living room and yawning widely. "Time is it?", he asked.

"10-ish", she replied, not looking up from the paper. "There's coffee in the pot".

"If I was Christian I'd say 'bless you' for that. But I'm not, so I won't". The diagnostician went to the kitchen, calling back: "I couldn't find my dressing gown. Why do my clothes always go missing when you're around?".

"Because I actively hide them, maybe?", she shouted back.

"Hmph". House returned holding his own mug and sat down next to Cameron, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "So where is it?".

"On me, genius. I didn't fancy slipping into my jeans and t-shirt when I woke up. It's, ah, a bit big", she mused, standing up and holding her arms out, her hands barely emerging from the sleeves. "How tall are you?".

"6, 2. You?".

"5, 5. I might need some higher heels if this relationship is to last".

"Nah, I can kiss your hair pretty easily at the moment". The nephrologist appraised her keenly for a few seconds, returning to the subject of the dressing gown. "I dunno, I think battered and threadbare cotton suits you. Not least because I can see glimpses through the holes".

Cameron raised an eyebrow. "If you want to see me naked, Greg, all you have to do is say".

"I want to see you naked", he shot back.

"Aha", she announced, leaning down to take his coffee cup and placing it on the little table. Then, Cameron straddled his lap on the couch, whispering into his ear. "We haven't fucked all week. You _claimed_ we would last night, but you fell fast asleep as soon as we got back".

"In my defence", murmured House, hands on the tie of her, _his_ , gown, "getting obliterated all night at bowling really took it out of me. Anyway, you could have woken me up".

As she had done the last time they were in this position, in her apartment, the immunologist moved her own hands down, hindering his movements. "Nah, you looked cute just napping away on the couch".

"Wise decision", he nodded, nuzzling her hair with his nose. "I get cranky if someone wakes me up. What did you wear to bed last night?".

"Nothing".

House tilted his head. "That's hot, but you should keep some clothes and pyjamas here. I'd offer you some of mine but I don't think anything would fit".

Cameron, who had been kissing along his neck and jaw softly, pulled back a touch as her heart skipped a beat. "That's…a bold suggestion. Are you sure you're ready for that?". Another reason for this cautious approach was because there had been no further news on whether the two would be sharing a hotel room at the London conference. The brunette was unwilling to raise it, content, as ever, to let House decide for himself. In fact, she had discreetly asked Cuddy last night to book a spare room for her on the off-chance developments took a different turn.

"It's not like you're moving in, is it? I'll just clear out a drawer, or maybe half a drawer, and you can have some stuff here just in case".

"But would that mean I don't get to wear this dressing gown anymore?". Cameron did not confess her odd attachment to his scent; nor that it was something she had missed during the rest and recuperation phase following the shooting; nor even that it was the first thing she had recognised his first day back. Undoubtedly there was some sort of evolutionary imperative at play here. The reflection was comforting, if only because it underscored yet again that despite their similarities and differences, their personal failings and strengths, both were only human and therefore entirely intelligible to one another. No matter what might happen in the future, this simple fact would never change.

"You can still wear this, you weirdo. Looks better on you, anyway. Either way, right now, it's coming off". House pulled the tie and slipped a hand inside, feeling the warm smoothness of her skin that never ceased to fire his blood.

"But I'll get cold", she complained.

"No worries. We'll keep each other warm", he murmured as his hand trailed up her stomach, caressing her flank and back.

Cameron pulled the gown down around her shoulders, watching as House's blue eyes raked familiarly over her nakedness. If she ever had doubts over his attraction, these initial moments always dispelled her insecurity far more effectively than his words ever could. The immunologist was enough of a realist to understand that he had likely seen plenty of beautiful women in the flesh, both girlfriend and hooker, and the thought occasionally arose that he would somehow judge her, wilfully or otherwise, by those standards. _Overly pale skin, very slim, boyish frame, small bust_. But whenever she revealed herself to him, his expression scarcely deviated from a straightforward carnal hunger. The whole experience made her feel incredibly sexy. "House…", she shivered, pulling him into a deep kiss.

The diagnostician ran both hands over her body, feeling the tiny bumps on her skin, evidence of cold-induced arousal which in turn caused his erection to throb against her butt. Cameron reached down and grasped him over his pyjama bottoms. "Is that for me, or is it just morning wood?", she whispered into his mouth.

"It's for you", he replied, kissing along her jaw before travelling down her neck, placing little bites as progress markers.

"I have tits, you know", pouted the woman as she slipped a hand inside the fold to grasp him directly.

"Lean back". House's voice was gruff, indicative of his own heightened state.

Cameron grinned and, with a final kiss on the lips, allowed him to support her weight as she tilted backwards, maintaining eye contact for as long as possible until the angle steepened. Using both hands splayed on her upper back to keep his area of focus steady, House dipped his head and lapped each peak with his tongue, avoiding her nipples. This did not escape her notice. "No. Don't tease, you. Just… _eat_ ".

"Fine", he growled, "be like that". Wasting no more time, the nephrologist did as he was bidden, engulfing her with his mouth, flicking one rock hard nub with his tongue before moving to the other, forcing her more firmly against his face. Even now, the morning after, he swore he could still taste traces of vanilla and spice; unless the aroma had already become so ingrained that his brain was simply playing tricks, supplying variables it anticipated, like a mirage in the desert.

"Yes, yes…there we go. Put that…big mouth to use. More. Harder. I want to feel your tongue _all_ over before we fuck". Cameron's sighs and whispered words punctuated the quiet of the apartment as she ground herself against his lap, using the friction as a delicious counterpoint to his assault on her chest. House, meanwhile, could feel how wet she was through the thin cotton of his pyjama bottoms. One hand he slipped down to her entrance, teasing her lips with his thumb, testing her arousal for himself. "Teeth", she hissed. Again, House did as she commanded, drawing his teeth across the pale flesh before nicking each nipple as hard as he dared, until her gasps returned him to vigorous tongue laps.

Suddenly House's phone, which had been on the vacant cushion since last night, lit up. The man, who was completely engaged, remained unaware. But Cameron's better nature pierced the fog of lust. "Your…ph-, phone".

"Leave it. It's on silent for a reason".

"It could be important", she returned and, with remarkable dexterity, reached across and retrieved the device without breaking contact with the other's mouth.

"What I'm doing now is important". House's voice was muffled as the tip of his thumb manipulated her clit.

"How…things have, unhh, changed since you last spoke that…line to me". As soon as Vogler had departed, he had come to her apartment cap in hand. But his pager had erupted with news of a possible epidemic at the hospital, interrupting their conversation:

_You should go. It's important_ , she had said _._

_What I'm doing now is important._

"Mmm. I love your taste", he murmured with a final lick of her now thoroughly wet breasts, though still teasing her slick entrance with his thumb. "I think I'll eat you for breakfast tomorrow as well".

"Read", she ordered, summoning up the willpower to finally sit forward and thrust the screen before his mischievous expression.

House rolled his eyes but nevertheless traced them over the messages. "Huh. Got a couple of missed calls from Wilson and a few texts. Dunno why…". His voice trailed off, before he exclaimed: "oh, _fuck_!".

"What's up?", came her concerned reply.

"Sorry, I completely forgot that I agreed to look around a few apartments with Wilson today. Shit, sorry, I'm already late and he's pissed…". The diagnostician disliked denying his partner release; he disliked even more that sex was, for now, off the cards.

"Oh well. That's OK", Cameron replied reassuringly, gently rising from his lap and pulling the discarded dressing gown around herself, glancing down at the damp patch she had left on his pyjama leg. The observation caused embarrassment to flush her features. "You may want to stick those in the wash".

But House tilted her chin up. "Why on _earth_ would I do that? In fact…", he raised his thumb, still wet with her arousal, to his lips and sucked it deliberately, like a toddler with a pacifier. "I said I loved your taste, Camster. Listen, I don't know how long I'll be…but you're welcome to stay. If you want, that is. Otherwise-".

"-sure", she interjected. "I'd like to stay". As ever, House knew exactly how to put her at ease.

"OK, great. There's food and stuff in the fridge but I'll leave you my keys in case you wanna go out. I don't think I have any clothes that will fit you but have a rummage and see if you can find anything". House leapt up from the couch and moved into the bedroom to find some clothes of his own. There was no time for breakfast or a shower.

"Actually, would you mind if I had my look around your apartment while you're gone? And maybe read the article?", she called from the living room. "I promise I won't mess with your stuff too much".

"That's fine, knock yourself out. As for the article, I've already printed off a copy for you. It's next to the computer. If you want to use it the password is GHousePC2004". Sounds of drawers opening and closing filtered through the walls.

"Also", she added conversationally, "would you mind if I fingered myself to completion in your bed? I'm wired as fuck".

House poked his head around the doorway and grinned at her. "I'd be offended if you _didn't_ do that. I'll let you browse my porn, too, but I do ask that you leave it as you find it".

Cameron laughed. "Hey, your phone is still going. Shall I text to tell Wilson you're on the way?".

"Yeah". The diagnostician jogged down the hallway, having hurriedly tied his shoes and located the motorbike keys and leather jacket. "Where's my wallet?".

"Coffee table", she replied, tossing it over while finishing the text. "I told him you're coming and that he stopped _me_ from coming. Could be TMI. Watch this space".

"Nah, he'll appreciate it. Toss". House was finally ready to go, and he plucked the phone from the air with his left hand, the helmet in his right. He opened the door and glanced back. "You'll be OK here?".

"Don't worry about me. Move!". Cameron shooed him off with a wave of her hand and with a final apologetic shrug he was gone. The brunette stood in the middle of the living room smiling faintly after House and the unexpected course the morning had taken. Still, he had given her a free run of the place, and there were things to do, long-held itches to scratch. That could wait, however. The first task on the agenda was also the simplest. For probably the last time today, Cameron shimmied out of the dressing gown, letting it tumble to the floor. Then, as the Saturday morning sunshine streamed through the window and bathed the room in light, she sauntered into his bedroom and closed the door.


	74. T.M.I. (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updating. I maintain this story on fanfiction.net too, so sometimes I forget to upload it here!

House pulled up to the smart building Wilson had directed him towards and saw his friend waiting impatiently on the sidewalk. "Before you say anything-", began the nephrologist, helmet scarcely removed as the other marched over to the bike.

"-what the actual fuck, House. I've been waiting for forty goddam minutes. Fortunately, Wendy has a gap until her next visit otherwise they'd have been scraping you from the tarmac. At least have the common courtesy to let me know you're running late. You _told_ me last night that you would help me find a new place, but if you can't even be bothered to turn up on time…I'm doing this for your benefit, too. _You're_ the one constantly complaining I live too far away".

House held up a hand and for once he could not justify a sarcastic retort. "Yeah, look, sorry. No excuse. I'm here now, hey, buddy?".

Wilson was unhorsed by the diagnostician's contrition. This was unexpected. "Why were you so late, anyway?", he demanded, recovering quickly.

"Combination of factors, really", he admitted as the pair walked towards the front door. "Went to bed late; woke up late; kinda sorta had Cameron all up in my jock this morning. Oh - and I can't stress this enough - I forgot".

The oncologist made a face. "Great, so while I was standing here twiddling my thumbs on a perfectly respectable Saturday morning, you were having sex".

"Well, technically, I didn't actually _get_ to the sex part. Did the text not make that clear?". Wilson's annoyed expression did not soften, and House coughed discreetly before continuing. "Anyway, what matters is that team Hilson are reunited again for this incredibly important day in your life. Hey, remember when you were living with me, and _I_ put a tie on the door, and _you_ thought I had a girl in there, when really _I_ was tugging one out, and so _you_ sat outside on the doorstep for like three hours? Good. Times".

"I'm not happy, House. Not happy".

House clapped his friend on the shoulder. "Tell you what: after we're done here why don't I buy you a burrito for lunch? I even brought my wallet and everything".

"What about Cameron?", asked Wilson. Though loath to pass up on House's rare offer of paying for food, his better nature dictated doublechecking that the immunologist was not sat at 221B Baker Street just staring at the walls. The realtor, meanwhile, gave them a wan smile and immediately made her way through to the kitchen, allowing the two men to wander around at their own pace.

"She's happy poking around my place". The diagnostician ambled down the hallway but turned back upon sensing that the other had not followed. Wilson was looking at him strangely from the doorway. "What's that expression for?".

"You've genuinely given Cameron the green light to snoop around your apartment?", inquired the oncologist incredulously.

"Uh, yeah. No big deal", he replied. It was probably not the time to confess that the possibility of sex on the hotel balcony in London had also contributed to his allowing Cameron a look around.

"You hate people touching your stuff".

House snorted, but when he replied his voice was distant. "Cameron isn't 'people'. Are you coming or what? I'm hungry – sacrificed my breakfast to come do this and it's turning into the biggest regret of my young life".

"Says the forty-something year old", scoffed Wilson, who did finally join his companion in the hallway. But he could not resist another comment: "if you're letting her do that…this relationship is pretty serious".

House's expression softened before he caught himself and quickly composed his features. Wilson, however, was observant and his jaw tensed: he had not seen such a look on his friend's face since the glory days of Stacy. Pieces clicked into place as his brain processed this new development. The nephrologist sighed. "So _this_ is what it feels like to be in the presence of someone else's epiphany. Pretty unpleasant".

"Holy Moses…you _love_ her! You're in love!". Wilson's voice was loud and triumphant.

"Keep it down, will you? I don't think the realtor heard", muttered House.

"For how long? Not since…not since that day in my office, right? That was a long time ago".

"Hell no. Can we look around now, please? I just _adore_ this wallpaper, don't you, James?".

"Have you told her?". Wilson was not letting this go.

House rolled his eyes. "Yes".

"And…?", prompted the other.

"And we agree you're incredibly annoying. Like, _really_ annoying. What are we thinking about these drapes?", he called from the living room.

"It can all be changed", replied Wilson, who once again returned to his pet theme. "So, what did she say? Nah, don't tell me. I can already guess what she said".

"Oh, yeah? Know her like the back of your hand, do you?", he smirked.

Wilson wandered over to join House and stuck out his hand. "Congratulations, buddy. Long may it last". The diagnostician shook his head in exasperation but nevertheless accepted the handshake.

"How are we finding the rooms, then?", asked the realtor as she made her way over to her clients. "Spacious, sleek, perfect for a modern couple. I think you two could be incredibly happy here".

* * *

Following a shower, Cameron made her way back into the bedroom and the clothes she had surmised actually stood a chance of fitting. As expected, the vast majority of House's stuff was far too big, but nestled right at the bottom of several drawers had lain respectively an old hoodie stamped 'University of Michigan', a pair of worn tracksuit bottoms which looked suspiciously like they had belonged to a cheerleader, and a dress shirt which would not have been out of place in a High School Musical prom scene. Of course, nothing was stopping her simply wearing the outfit from bowling last night, but it felt more significant to wear something of House's.

The brunette appraised her somewhat ragtag appearance in the mirror. The knowledge of the last time she was in this spot, during their first night together, combined with the feel of his clothes against her skin, sent an erotic pulse shuddering through her body. After a steadying breath, and a ruffle of her still-damp hair (there was no sign of a hairdryer), she moved to the centre of the room.

_Where to start, where to start…_

Cameron padded over to the large window which looked out onto the street. The day's early sunshine had given way to grey skies, and a fairly strong wind plucked at the bare branches of the trees which studded the sidewalk. For a couple of minutes she stood and watched pedestrians and cars pass by, completely content. This was central Princeton, just a touch closer to the hospital than her own place, and she peered down the road in the direction of work. After a final glance outside, Cameron turned and considered the room once again. The bedside table. Sitting on House's side of the bed, she opened the drawer. Nothing much of interest in here: condoms, an old glasses case, and a couple of battered paperbacks, neither of which she had read.

Closing the drawer, she turned her attention to the bed. It really was a beautiful thing. The carvings she had spied their first night together were not as random as it had first seemed. The headboard boasted a large tree on each edge, their forest of branches twining across the width, before meeting in the middle. A closer look revealed delicate butterflies playing among the leaves and bark, and the scene was overspread by a radiant sun. House had said that the bed was Japanese, and a quick Google revealed the butterfly to be one of Japan's national symbols. The trees must be cherry blossoms. The whole structure looked incredibly expensive. She ran a hand over the wood, reflecting on the things it had seen. _So this is where the magic happens_.

Next, the brunette moved to the bookcase which rested against the far wall. This was something she had already browsed briefly, but it didn't hurt to revisit the shelves. As she remembered, a good half of the items were history-focused, and many of these were undersized books of either solid red or green. She took out a red book entitled _Cicero's Philippics_ and leafed through the pages, which had Latin on one side and English on the other. A few more reds, chosen at random, revealed the same layout. Upon carefully replacing the books, she selected a green. _Homer's Odyssey_. This was an author of whom even she had heard. This time the language was Greek with facing English translation. Just for fun, she tried to identify a few of the characters: _alpha, pi…er, sigma_? House had never mentioned Greek as one of his languages, but if he knew Latin, there was a fair chance he knew Greek, too; or at least enough to sign his name, since she could distinctly recall these letters on one of his reports the first day back.

Bookcase exhausted, Cameron moved over to his wardrobe and drawers. There was no need to spend much time here, since House's range of attire was limited. True to form, there was a bunch of shirts and t-shirts, most of which were familiar. He kept only a couple of suits, one of which she remembered fondly from the hospital poker evening last year. House dressed casually by habit, but the man filled out evening wear extremely well. Everything was neatly packed away, if a little creased around the edges. With a final glance on the upper shelf, half-expecting to find his fabled porn stash, she closed the doors and left the bedroom to continue her tour.

* * *

House and Wilson were eating lunch together at a nearby Mexican joint. The former took a huge bite of his burrito followed by a slurp of Coke. When he looked up, he saw Wilson grinning moronically at him. "For God's sake, will you stop being weird", complained the nephrologist. "No wonder the realtor thought we were a couple".

"I'm just amazed that you've allowed Cameron free rein. Aren't you afraid that she'll find skeletons in the closet?", replied the other, dipping his nachos in salsa before swallowing a few.

House grunted. "OK, I know I'm a freak, but you're making it sound like I'm Jack the Ripper".

"No, but...aren't you afraid of, I dunno, TMI? What if she finds your porn collection or something?". Wilson looked closely at his friend.

"So what?", he shrugged. "Unlike you, I'm not a prude. There's nothing she could find that I'd be embarrassed about. Anyway, I think her motive is more intellectual, which is actually a bit of a turn on".

Wilson made a face. "Thanks for telling me that".

"No worries, hermano". House chewed thoughtfully for a few moments. "So", he continued, moving the conversation on, "Mathilde seems nice".

"Yeah. It was a smart effort to enlist Cameron in your little intelligence-gathering mission. I was expecting something a touch more direct".

"Well, I was all for kidnapping. Y'know the routine: unmarked van, fake plates, blindfolds. But the Camsternator convinced me her way was better. How many dates have you been on?".

The oncologist finished his mouthful before replying. "Just two. I dunno how serious it's likely to be. I'm just glad to be out and about again, honestly".

"Of course you are. As long as you don't suggest a double date it's all good".

"Unlikely". Wilson finished his food and wiped his hands on a napkin. "Were you aware that Cameron was a killer at bowling, by the way?".

"Absolutely not. It's kind of funny, really", he mused.

"In what way?", asked the oncologist.

"If you'd asked me a year ago about her hobbies, I wouldn't have cared one iota. But now...it's like there are layers to her that I'm still unravelling".

Wilson nodded. "Who'd have thought that getting shot would have had such an impact, eh?".

"Physically or emotionally?".

"Both. How is the leg, anyway?". That was one thing the oncologist had generally neglected to ask after. Not for any particular reason – he just assumed that if there had been an issue, he would have spotted it himself.

"Fine. Regular swimming's working a charm. As is regular sex with an athletic younger woman", added the diagnostician with a smirk.

"I miss the days when you were single and grumpy".

House merely snorted in response and the pair lapsed into silence, content to relax into the gentle hubbub of the dining area.

* * *

Following a careful examination of the living area, Cameron moved towards House's study. Shelves lined the hallway on one side, and she ran her finger along the spines, noting the titles. They were almost exclusively medical in nature. Though she had walked through this area frequently since their second date, now was the first time she had complete freedom to explore, and it took around fifteen minutes even to reach her destination. The office was a small room, which seemed even more cramped thanks to yet more shelves and a television stuffed into the corner next to the desktop machine.

The immunologist sat in the leather chair. Setting aside the article, which rested on the keyboard, she started to peek inside the drawers. These, she quickly realised, were brimful of useful information: old articles, random doodlings, numerous battered notebooks; all of these lingered under her inquisitive eye during this phase of the investigation. The fascinating aspect was that only about half of the documentation actually concerned their profession. Indeed, Cameron spent a full ten minutes simply looking at a physics paper House had written while still at college. He had told her months ago that particle physics had been a genuine possibility at one point, and this must have been a product of that phase of his life.

As Cameron continued, she noticed once again how few personal touches existed in this, House's inner sanctum. Not even here was there a photograph or a plant pot. Instead, the space was given over to puzzles of all descriptions: medicine, science, music, sports; in that order of importance. Thirty minutes later, with the desk drawers finished, the brunette was on the point of bringing the article into the living room to read on the couch when she spied under her feet a box marked 'Super important work stuff'. Curiosity got the better of her, and she crouched down to pull it out. The contents were immediately obvious, and she laughed out loud. House's porn collection. _Well_ , she thought, _he_ _ **did**_ _say I could look at it_.

* * *

House entered his apartment later that afternoon. "Cameron?", he called.

"I'm in here!", came the reply.

The nephrologist hung up his coat and removed his shoes before walking through to the kitchen where, to his surprise, he saw an aproned Cameron retrieving a baking tray from the oven. "Err, whatcha doin'?".

"I baked cookies", she declared triumphantly. "White chocolate and raisin".

"They smell nice", said House, moving over to lean against the worktop. Cameron had betrayed no hint at all that she knew her way around cooking apparatus, so it was something of a surprise to catch her red-handed, as it were.

"Here. Careful, it's hot". Cameron directed a cookie at his mouth, and he took a tentative bite. _Surprisingly tasty_. "Verdict?", she asked expectantly.

"Surprisingly tasty". House finished eating and looked at her as she placed the try to the side.

"Thanks. I think". The brunette tilted her head. "What're you gawking at?".

"Gawking?", he smirked.

"Yes. Gawking. I know words, too, y'know. Well?".

"Nothing. It's just pretty sexy coming home to you baking in my kitchen", admitted the man, folding his arms. "Did you read my article?"

Cameron rolled her eyes but flashed him a smile regardless. "I did, and I'd like to talk to you about it over cookies and coffee. What've you got there, then?", she asked, gesturing towards a box he had brought in with him.

"Here. Open".

The woman took it, eyebrow raised, and slipped a finger between the cardboard fold: "well, there's no way it can be a brownie _this_ time". House remained silent as she unwrapped the package and held it aloft. It was a motorcycle helmet. "House, I...", she murmured, lost for words.

"We can change the colour if you want, but black and blue was all they had in what I guessed was your size. At least you don't have to wear mine anymore, hey? We'll need to get you a proper leather jacket, too, but they didn't have the brand I wanted in stock".

"I, this is... _incredibly_ thoughtful, Greg. I love it". Cameron wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, embarrassed by the sudden onset of tears. Even now, after everything they had done together, his unexpected generosity could still move her. "Thank you".

"Why do you always cry when I do nice stuff?", he grinned. "Try it on then while I have another cookie". The immunologist laughed thickly and duly put on the helmet, which was a snug fit. House, still munching, placed a hand either side and tested the leeway with a practised feel. "How is it? Not too tight?".

"No. It's great", returned the slightly muffled voice.

"Nice. Wanna go for a test ride after the article debate?", he asked. Cameron removed the helmet, gently placing it to the side, before taking the other's hand wordlessly and leading him out of the room. "Er, what's up?".

"Bedroom", replied Cameron shortly.

"But I thought we were going to-", he started.

"-I don't care what you _thought_ we were going to do", she announced, "because _I'm_ going to suck you dry, House. Right now". The nephrologist gulped, wolfing down the cookie he had managed to grab on the way out. Though he would never claim to love food more than sex, it was always a close-run thing.


	75. College kids

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sex entry but it's not massively explicit (relative to the others of this type, that is). The theme is inspired by a couple of lines House speaks to Cameron in the show. In the first, he muses out loud that she probably dated a basketball player in college; in the second, he jokes to her about oral sex (season 5 'Big Baby').

Cameron pulled House into the bedroom and immediately backed him up against the door, meeting his lips frantically while running both hands under his Fleetwood Mac t-shirt. An accumulation of sexual energy throughout the day had made her this way: denied release this morning, her own fingers had granted only a temporary respite, merely emphasising how much she missed House's presence; then, a few hours spent exploring his apartment, the knowledge that simply being _allowed_ to do so meant he cared for her even more deeply than he had admitted in the office a couple of weeks ago; finally, the uncovering of his porn collection, followed by a focused reading of the article, both of which reminded her precisely why she loved him – the first represented his straightforward masculinity; the second his sheer brilliance of mind. More than once, Cameron had reflected on this intoxicating combination; more than once, she had willingly succumbed. It no longer scared her to concede that she would likely _always_ succumb.

These thoughts flitted around the periphery of the brunette's mind even as she forced her tongue into the man's mouth and raked her nails through the hairs of his chest, the shirt hindering access. "Take it off", she hissed.

"But I'll get cold", he returned with a soft smirk, breaking contact solely to mimic her words from earlier.

"I'll keep you warm, House. I want to see you. I want to _bite_ you".

The diagnostician growled in response, seemingly surprised at her forwardness. But Cameron had an overwhelming urge to mark his body somehow, to leave some tangible record of this time together. During their encounters, it had been House who frequently enjoyed the upper hand. As she had confessed to him yesterday, this fact never failed to excite her. For one thing, there was an undeniable symmetry in his possessing power at home as well as work. But even that was not the full explanation.

In the hospital, Cameron could never show weakness. Not only did lives depend on her retaining the strength to make quick judgements, but it would have been career suicide to exhibit softness to her male colleagues within, and without, Diagnostics. If the immunologist were to pinpoint just one way in which she had changed since her first day at PPTH, it would be that: third-year Cameron was tougher than ever. Being with House, however, allowed her to be vulnerable without fear of reprisal, for he had gone out of his way to assuage her embarrassment, and to show himself without a shield, unguarded. The simple truth was that it turned her on to be so vulnerable, since it so rarely happened.

This evening, however, Cameron wanted to change the dynamic, and she resumed the frenetic kiss, tasting white chocolate cookie. "I'm going to eat you, House. I'm going to eat your…ear…", she breathed, before carrying out the threat, which caused a sharp intake of breath from the nephrologist; "…your lip…", once again biting hard; "…your chin…", this bite elicited an animal growl; "…your neck", Cameron trailed her tongue along his jaw, feeling it tense as she reached his throat, which she nicked with her teeth; "…and your cock", she murmured, hands at his belt. "And then…", she stated, looking into his deep blue eyes, "…I'm going to ride you like there's no tomorrow".

The man cleared his throat. "What exactly was _in_ those cookies?".

Cameron flashed him a sultry smile. "This is _your_ fault, not the cookies' fault. Take your clothes off, Greg".

"What about yours?", he asked.

"Look closely. These are not mine".

House's eyes trailed over the hoodie markings, and the tracksuit bottoms. "You found my Michigan stuff".

"Yep. And they're staying on. You're going to fuck me while I'm wearing your college clothes. I'm gonna be on your _co-ed curriculum_ …".

The nephrologist tilted her chin up, suspicious. "You found my magazines".

She met his gaze unwaveringly, though her fingers unsnapped his belt. "I did. My research uncovered a common thread running through the various publications in that box under your desk. College fan, eh? I don't blame you. What happens when _Co-ed Curriculum_ meets _Totally Bodacious Blondes_ , I wonder?".

"A new galaxy is formed from the collision. Obviously".

"Carl Sagan would be proud. Clothes".

House raised an eyebrow at her tone but nevertheless removed his t-shirt as she helped him with the pants. When she rose back to her feet, he ran his hands under the hoodie, hiking it up. But before he could pull it over her head, Cameron bit his shoulder and stepped away, a devilish smirk playing around her lips. "Go and stand in front of the mirror", she commanded.

House did so, curious as to what she had planned, and content to cede the initiative. Reaching the floor to ceiling mirror, he observed the most recent bite mark on his shoulder. For the longest time, he had considered Cameron to be naïve and innocent. Their first night together had dispelled that notion. And yet, as he had admitted recently, his brain found something undeniably alluring in the apparent divorce between her understated nature on the one hand and her sexiness in the bedroom on the other. Part of him wondered whether that aspect had always been there, or whether their relationship had brought it to the surface. _Maybe she is like with this with all her male partners?_ House was unsure. For once, he _liked_ being unsure. Cameron kept him on his toes, and she sidled up to stand behind him, placing both hands on his back. "What are you doing?", he asked.

"Just…touching…", she murmured before biting between his shoulder blades suddenly.

"Ouch", House rumbled.

"Oopsie", Cameron returned lightly, walking around to stand between man and mirror. This time, she pulled his head down and nicked his neck, feeling his stubble under her tongue. Once again, the diagnostician shifted. "Did you know that some primate species show affection not by kissing but by biting?", she asked.

"I'm starting to rethink this. It's not like I _need_ oral sex, y'know?", stated House, eyeing her warily.

The brunette grinned before sinking to her haunches. "Oh, don't worry. I intend to treat _that_ part of your anatomy just like Sarah Sorensen on page thirty-two of _Totally Bodacious Blondes_. Or was it Katie John on page twelve of _Co-ed Curriculum_?".

"I told you a while ago: less reading; more TV".

"Are we convinced that browsing your porn stash qualifies as reading?", she asked, tugging his boxers down and springing him free.

"I'll have you know that several of those magazines host hard-hitting journalism", he retorted, relaxing into her rhythmical strokes.

"Uhuh. You're aware all that stuff is online though, right? Get with the times, babe". At that, she felt him leap in her hand and she glanced up under hooded lashes. "Well, well. Truly, the body never lies".

"That wasn't because of you. I get turned on by mere mention of the internet".

Instead of replying, Cameron drew her tongue slowly along his shaft, maintaining eye contact so as to observe how his expression flickered. This movement she repeated several times, tilting her head to access every area, House's low growls the only evidence of her progress. Then, once he was slick all over, the brunette mixed in delicate kisses, allowing him to reach down and lose both his hands in her hair. Every now and then, he would apply a gentle pressure, desirous of a more substantial contact. But she resisted wordlessly, and eventually he admitted defeat, contenting himself with stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. "Are you OK down there? Don't want a cushion?", he asked.

The immunologist smiled up at him. "You always ask if I'm OK".

"I do? I'm a jerk, so that doesn't sound like me at all". A conversation with Wilson came back to him. Soon after the immunologist had joined the team, the two friends had discussed her in the lobby. _Dr. Cameron's getting to you, House. I guess you can't be around that much niceness and not get any on you from time to time_. The oncologist was being flippant, but the undeniable fact was that, two years and a bit later, his words had proved unerringly accurate. Was House becoming…nicer? _Ugh_ , he thought, _there must be another explanation. Lack of pain? Yeah, that's it. Phew. Crisis averted._

Cameron engulfed him in her mouth without warning, taking him as deep as possible and snapping House back to reality. He inhaled sharply, watching as she spent a few moments lavishing his cock with attention. Only after she could feel his hands knot in her hair did she draw back to utter a reply. "Yeah, well. It's sweet, but just assume that if I'm with you, I'm OK. In fact, just assume that I'm more than OK".

"Noted", he replied, glancing in the mirror at the words _University of Michigan_ on the back of her hoodie. The fact that she was on her knees, in his room, wearing his clothes, doing this for him, caused a powerful feeling of possessiveness to rush through his body. By exploring his place, examining his things, Cameron had received an insight into a personal life which he had worked to keep hidden from all but Wilson and, to a slightly lesser extent, Cuddy. The realisation was both exciting and just a little frightening.

House knew himself to be endlessly curious, and he rarely stopped to consider how this impulse affected those around him. It didn't matter to him if patients or colleagues found his peculiarities annoying, because all that counted was the solving of the puzzle. And yet, he was self-aware enough to accept that the immunologist had, at the very least, made him slightly less antagonistic; slightly more ready to open up parts of his life he generally kept closed.

Cameron mixed in slow tongue laps with vigorous pressure, taking care that no area was neglected for long, House's heavy sighs causing a tingling in her core. "How am I doing? Do I get an 'A' in biology...Professor?", she asked, popping him free for a moment and gazing up seductively.

"You're…doing very well, Allison", he replied, running her silky hair through his fingers.

"Huh. You _do_ know my name. So many times I sat in the front row of class wondering if you knew who I was". Cameron licked him deliberately from root to tip.

"I knew. You sit between Boring and Bimbo".

Cameron suppressed a smile at the nicknames he had assigned, presumably, Foreman and Chase. "What did you call me, then?". When he didn't reply immediately, she stopped suddenly. "I asked you a question, Professor".

"Nothing".

"Fake news. Tell me or I'm not putting out".

House's eyes were dark. "Bombshell".

The brunette's cheeks flushed but she stayed in character. "That's a coincidence, because I had a name for you too, sir, and it also began with the letter 'b'".

"Yeah?".

"Yep. Although it changed over time. At first it was 'Bastard', because, well, you know. But now it's 'bae'". As she spoke, Cameron caressed him with her hand, which was now slick with their combined fluids.

"Bae?", repeated the other.

She winked. "'Before anyone else'. All the college kids are saying it." Once again, Cameron took him deep, breathing steadily through her nose.

House exhaled, pulling back on her hair. "That's enough. You're going to finish me off before I've had a chance to get into the swing of things". Despite his powers of self-control, the immunologist's expertise was beginning to make its mark.

Cameron raised an eyebrow. "Er, kinda my plan there, genius".

"I'm not as young as you, remember. It takes us old folk a while to get back to attention".

"I said I'd suck you dry, soldier. We can _make love_ afterwards – we've got all the time in the world".

"Hmm", murmured the other, letting go of her ponytail and allowing her to resume. "You're…very, ah, g-, good at this".

Once more she popped him free, massaging his length against her cheek and gazing upwards. "Yes", she replied simply, "I am".

"Did you date the captain of the basketball team or something?".

Cameron winked but voiced no response, licking him again while a thought danced into her mind unbidden. _You'll be my last date if I have anything to say about it_. "Well", she said after a few more moments, "I've already confessed to you how many times I've imagined myself on my knees, in this room, with you looking down on me with those flashing blue eyes".

House's jaw tensed. As ever, he was unwilling to let her have the last word, unwilling to acknowledge the _effect_ of her words. "Let's move to the bed".

"No. Let yourself go. Right now. In my mouth. Then the evening can progress".

"You…", he muttered thickly. Cameron refused to break eye contact as she doubled down, and the diagnostician was suddenly reminded of the image he had of her from his hallucination all those months ago, when she had stopped him walking out of his hospital room, pinning his hand to the drip stand and his eyes to hers. That had not been real – the product of a damaged and confused mind. But _this_ was. _This_ woman had penetrated his life to an extent that few, if any, had before.

"Come for me, House". Cameron's tone was husky as she jerked him vigorously against her cheek.

The man's defences suddenly crumbled, and he scarcely had time to mutter a warning to his partner, who managed to divert her mouth quickly, feeling him pulse within as House knotted both hands in her hair. Only when the last blissful tremor had echoed into the distance did he look down and realise how forceful he had been, and he stroked her cheek tenderly. "Damn, sorry. Are you OK?".

The brunette smiled. "What did I _just_ say about that, hey? You don't need to worry about me".

House helped her up and kissed her nose. "Fine, fine. You've, ah, adapted your technique. I didn't stand much of a chance there".

"Mmm…", she hummed as his hands travelled under the hoodie once more, "…the tongue tornado. Page three of _Oral Oasis_. Your collection is quite extensive. And informative".

"I've created a monster", House grunted, palming a breast as they kissed.

"Research was always my strength. Are you ready for the main event, Professor? I _really_ need that 'A', else I can't make up my credit quota this semester".

"I know you're role-playing, but I bet that's totally something you actually said". The diagnostician hooked a thumb in the waistband and pulled her to the bed.

Cameron scoffed, allowing herself to be dragged. "Wouldn't _you_ like to know…".

"I would", he replied, untying the bow on her slacks and slipping them off. As expected, she hadn't bothered wearing any of his boxer shorts.

"Well, why don't you show this college chick what you can do, and we'll take it from there", she smirked, stepping out of her pants which pooled on the floor. When House tried to pull up the top, she slapped his hand as a warning: "nu-uh. This stays on".

The nephrologist raised an eyebrow, secretly impressed that she still refused to give in to his demands. It was, unfortunately, a major turn-on. "Nothing is worth this much trouble, Cameron".

"Your words say one thing; your little face says another", she retorted, emulating his phrase from a little while ago in the office. "Lie back on the bed, House. Class is now in session".


	76. All the world's a stage

Cameron walked into the department Monday morning and spotted a note resting on the keyboard, immediately recognising House's semi-legible scrawl.

_**Bombshell: Auditorium 3. Come alone. Jokes - bring Boring and Bimbo. And coffee. Also maybe the cricket ball on my desk. And a Hershey bar. Don't forget the coffee. Or the Hershey bar. The capital of Cyprus is...?** _

The immunologist smiled for longer than she would care to admit at the nickname House had given her. She liked it. After a couple minutes' fond recollection of their nocturnal shenanigans over the weekend, she set about making the coffee as she thought on his question. Geography had never been her strongest suit, and she was actually not completely sure where Cyprus was on the map. A while ago, during dinner, House had mentioned a few of the army bases at which he had stayed during his father's military service, and Cyprus was almost certainly one of them, from memory. The Americans maintained a presence at a largely British installation on that island, and she vaguely recalled him saying how they used it to fly sorties and protect allied interests during the Cold War. The Mediterranean sounded plausible. But the capital's name escaped her.

Cameron spooned beans into the machine and waited for it to brew. Foreman and Chase were due in soon, and then she would take them to their mysterious rendezvous with House. The man had given no indication over the weekend what he was planning, though during their chat about his paper Saturday evening he had inquired after hers casually, and whether it was in a fit state to present on short notice. Which of course it was – ready for over a month, even the PowerPoint slides were finished. It never paid to leave anything until the last minute. On a whim, she booted up the computer, located her personal folder in the cloud, and glanced through her notes, reminding herself of what they contained.

Foreman and Chase found Cameron like this a few minutes later. "Morning", called the Australian cheerily. It seemed that he had settled on a manufactured brightness as far as she was concerned, which didn't bother her in the slightest. She had become so used to interpreting her partner's moods and nuances that anything Chase (or Foreman, for that matter) could throw at her was, frankly, a refreshing diversion.

"Hi", she smiled, meeting his joviality with the same. "There's coffee in the pot but you might wanna slap it into a to-go cup. We're not long in this office".

"Got a case lined up?", asked Foreman, shrugging into his white coat.

"Unsure, but we're due in Auditorium three imminently. How's your conference presentation coming along? Still doing it together?". The immunologist poured House's coffee into a paper cup and put the lid on.

"Yeah, we finished it over the weekend. Turned out pretty good", answered Chase, who followed his colleague in coffee preparation.

"Nice. I've got a sneaking suspicion that House is gonna make us deliver our papers now, sort of like a dry run". Cameron wandered into the adjoining office to collect the cricket ball while the others chatted about their paper. "We all set, then?", she asked upon her return, the ball safely tucked away in her pocket.

"Yeah. Have you seen House this morning?", inquired the neurologist.

"Nope, but he left a note with his instructions. Let's go. I need to pop by the vending machines on the way". She stacked the two coffees and went to the door.

"Isn't it a bit early to be hitting the soda and chocolate bars? There's no substitute for a healthy and nutritious breakfast, Allison", joked Chase.

"Yeah, yeah. Save the trash talk for the papers, Bimbo. Come!". Cameron left the office without a backward glance.

Both men looked at each other. "I swear she is becoming more like House with every passing day", said Foreman.

"Did she...did she just call me 'Bimbo'...?", asked the Australian, completely nonplussed.

* * *

The three fellows entered the auditorium to the sight of a white-coated House at the lectern, arms widespread. "Welcome, brothers and sister, to the house of the Lord!", he intoned in his thick Southern accent.

"You already used that line when we were treating the autistic boy a while back!", called Cameron.

House scoffed into the microphone. "Fine. How about: all the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players".

"What are we doing here, House? Apart from indulging your narcissistic need for display". Foreman crossed his arms.

"Always got to kill my vibe, Ice Man. Be like that", the diagnostician sighed. Nevertheless, he jogged up the stairs of the central aisle to meet his bemused subordinates. "Dr. Cameron, do you have something for me?", he asked, eyes twinkling.

"Do you want the coffee, the bar, or the ball?".

"I want the answer to my question, then the ball and coffee. You can keep the bar for now".

"Nicosia is the capital of Cyprus", she replied confidently. House raised an eyebrow at this, and her inherent honesty compelled her to add: "Wilson. Only a text away".

"While I'm disappointed you didn't know that yourself, you get points for your initiative".

"What the hell are you talking about?", asked Chase, who, like Foreman, was struggling to contain his annoyance. "What does Cyprus have to do with anything?".

"Nothing. Ball, please", the diagnostician held out his hand and Cameron tossed it over. "Ah, my precious, I missed you", he said, rubbing it on his cheek while the fellows looked on. "Coffee now", and again Cameron duly handed it over. House took a long sip. "Hmm, just the ticket, thanks". After another satisfied slurp he continued: "I guess you're wondering why I summoned you here".

"I wonder a lot of things about you, House", retorted the neurologist.

"The conference is this week, and I thought it'd be a good idea if you three presented your papers to an audience before we leap into the lions' den, as it were. I've been informed by She of the Big Breasts that I'm meant to take an interest in your professional development. So that's what I'm doing. Unfortunately, I couldn't get a top-notch crowd on short notice, so I've roped in Bill the janitor; most of the catering staff; Mindy, Carli, and Charity from my speed-dial; Brenda the clinic nurse; and a host of med students. All of whom are now, yes, there we are...trooping in as we speak".

The door opened and a motley crew appeared, wearing expressions that ranged from naked boredom to apprehension. Everyone took a seat, having obviously been prepped by House beforehand. After the last of the hookers had filed through the door, Cuddy appeared; she looked angry. "House, what the hell are you doing? Are they...whores?".

"I believe the politically correct term is 'working women'. In any case, they are, for today only, professional audience members. Along with Brenda here, and Bill, of course. And these bright-eyed college students, all eager to learn. Plus these caterers. Please, everyone, get comfortable and we shall begin!".

Cuddy marched over to her Head of Diagnostics. "I cannot _believe_ you have brought _prostitutes_ into my hospital. Also, the nurse is _Glenda_ not Brenda. And who the frag is staffing the cafeteria?".

"'Frag'? You can use big-girl words. I won't tell dad".

"Speak", she demanded, arms folded.

"You told me to coach my team for London, so I am. If they can handle this, they can handle whatever the Brits will throw at them", he answered. "Cameron? Have you still got that Hershey bar?".

"Err, yeah". The immunologist was unsure whether she was amused, concerned, or angry at his antics. Upon reflection, it was possibly a stroke of genius. If her paper survived _this_ band of people, it must be pretty strong. Chase and Foreman both stood with arms folded like Cuddy.

"Great. I'll take that now, thanks". House tore into the chocolate bar and munched it as he directed operations from the front of the auditorium. When everything was to his satisfaction, he walked up to his fellows. "Right. Who wants to go first? I've pre-loaded all your slides on the central machine".

The Dean was livid. "This is ridiculous. You've done some insane things, House, but _honestly_...do these people know _anything_ about medicine?".

"Actually, Mindy is studying for a PhD in molecular biology at Harvard. But she's in New Jersey on, er, business", he answered, glancing over to a young woman with heavily shaded eyelids who was currently glued to her phone. "And these med students could do with learning a thing or two. Besides, you wanted it to be a test".

"This is not at all what I had in mind when I _suggested_ a targeted feedback session".

"Well, you only sent the email yesterday, so this is all I could rustle up on such short notice. It's gonna be great. Trust me. Now, which of you fellows wants to go first? As you can see, we've got a sizeable contingent at the ready".

Cameron stepped forward. House may be an insane man, but he was _her_ insane man. "I'll go". Despite his whirlwind bravado, he flashed her a knowing smile, and she was immediately put at ease.

"Fantastic. If you'd like to set up, Camster, I'll introduce you, and we'll get things rolling. You can stay or go", he added to his boss, "but this is happening". Cuddy shook her head in exasperation but nevertheless moved off. Thankfully, the Townsends were not scheduled to appear today, so there was little chance of any permanent damage to the hospital's reputation. Chase and Foreman also settled down, having seemingly come to terms with events.

House took up position at the microphone. "Welcome, all, to our mini symposium. Over the next couple of hours, we shall be hearing from two of PPTH's finest doctors. And Foreman. I ask that you keep all questions to the end. Prostitutes and catering staff: if you wish to fall asleep, please refrain from snoring. Without further ado, may I introduce Dr. Allison Cameron, who will be talking on Sjögren's syndrome". Following an elaborate bow, House retreated from the podium, and Cameron took his place.

"Thank you, Dr. House. It's an absolute _pleasure_ to be standing here before an audience of such pedigree. So, what is Sjögren's syndrome? If you turn your attention to slide one...".

* * *

House was at the door farewell-ing the attendees. "OK, excellent, yes, thank you for coming".

"Hi, Dr. House. You haven't booked an appointment for some time. Are you feeling well, darling?". Charity placed a hand on his forehead dramatically.

The diagnostician could see Cameron in his peripheral vision; fortunately, she was chatting to a med student and missed the physical contact. He quickly removed the hand and patted it gently. "I'm a changed man, Charity. Give my best to Carlos". The woman sighed in mock sadness and finally departed, leaving House to amble back down to the front row where Chase and Foreman were lounging. "That wasn't so bad, eh, my dudes?", he asked.

"Well, it wasn't great, House. I think it would have been more effective for you simply to read our papers and comment on them", returned Foreman.

"Yeah, but _so_ boring. Gotta keep the magic alive". House retrieved the cricket ball from his pocket and began flicking it up into the air.

"So, do you actually have any feedback for us or not?", demanded Chase.

"Your presentation was fine. You did a decent job dovetailing between the medicine and the theory. No doubt all the hot chicks in London will want a piece of your pie".

"We still haven't heard _your_ paper, even though a section was promised to us last week".

House stopped playing catch long enough to throw across a flash drive. "There you go. Knock yourself out".

The two men shook their heads before walking up the stairs and back to Diagnostics. Cameron, meanwhile, finished her conversation and wandered over to where House was sitting, sinking into the neighbouring seat. "Was that med student angling after your number or did he just really love Sjögren's syndrome?", he asked.

"The latter", she replied.

"How was that for you?".

"I mean, it was interesting, for sure. Were you just looking to piss Cuddy off?".

The nephrologist shrugged. "Sometimes you'll have friendly audiences; sometimes not. Practice can never hurt, and all the world really is a stage".

Cameron smiled faintly. "So, what's your report on my paper?".

"It's good. You'll do well on Saturday".

"I really do appreciate your helping me with it", she said, placing her hand over his on the armrest.

"No worries. I sense Foreman and Chase are not quite so enamoured of me at the moment". The pair had delivered their paper under extreme duress.

Now it was Cameron's turn to shrug. "Since when do you care what they think?".

"I don't. I only care what _you_ think".

The brunette turned fully in her seat to regard his profile. "OK, now you're just stealing my lines".

House scoffed but turned the conversation back to work. "Make sure you don't rush slides eight through eleven. They carry much of the science and people need a chance to digest. I know you're going to beef it up again for publication but it's still pretty heavy".

"Noted, thanks". The two lapsed into a comfortable silence, as they often did when further talk was unnecessary. House had closed his eyes and was dropping off to sleep until Cameron nudged him. "Hey, House?", she asked conversationally.

"Mmm?".

"Why was that hooker touching your face earlier?".

"She noted my...absence recently and asked if I was sick".

"And how did you reply?".

"With the truth", he murmured sleepily, "that I'm a changed man".

The immunologist's heart beat faster, and it took her a moment to muster the courage for a follow-up. "Because of your fixed leg...or because of me?", she whispered. House remained quiet, and she glanced across apprehensively, aware that he disliked excessive questioning on feelings. But soft snoring was his only response. That man could fall asleep anywhere. Cameron shook her head in exasperation, before reaching into his coat pocket and retrieving the cricket ball, tossing it from hand to hand and thinking over the paper and any possible improvements that could be made.


	77. Morning glory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, big thanks to readers, commenters, and kudosers. Stay safe out there!

Insistent knocking on the door awoke House from a deep sleep. Rather than actually get out of bed, he decided to bury his head under the pillow and hope whoever it was gave up and left him alone. Early mornings were not his forte. And he didn't consider himself unique here. Humans just were not designed to be awake while it was still dark outside. Hundreds of thousands of years of evolution had made it so. For one thing, _homo sapiens_ possessed decidedly average night vision and hearing; for another, since the species exhibited superior intelligence and practical ability, it expended far more energy than other animals, which needed to be replenished every night. Failure to do so resulted in inevitable cognitive and physical degeneration. So really, thought House as he stuffed a second pillow over his head, he was just looking after his health. And nobody could blame him for that.

The knocking soon stopped, to be replaced by his phone on the nightstand vibrating aggressively. The person at the door obviously knew him well enough to have his number. Potentially interesting, but not sufficient reason to get out of bed. House reached across and muted the phone without glancing at the screen. _Problem solved_. Satisfied, he relaxed back into the sheets and hoped beyond hope that his dream would return. Monica Bellucci just happened to be the latest case and, as thanks for diagnosing her, had bought him dinner before coming back to the apartment. Obviously, House had been a complete gentleman about the whole thing, but she _was_ newly single. One thing led to another, and she was waiting for him in the bathtub. The diagnostician willed himself back to sleep.

Suddenly an alarm blared through the room, shattering the pleasant drowsiness which had descended. House groaned and turned over in confusion, for he had not set his own alarm clock in at least a decade. Groping around in the darkness, he plucked it from the bedside table, and with scarcely a glance at its face threw it against the door, noting the satisfying crunch. Unfortunately, however, the alarm continued. In fact, a moment later yet another sound pierced the air; this time it was a ship's foghorn. House, now fully awake, sat up in bed. "What the fuck is going on?", he murmured aloud.

Both alarms, the beep and the foghorn, were soon joined by a police siren. Before long, the three contraptions had settled into a merry symphony as House, groggy and confused, stumbled around his room in a futile attempt to locate the multi-pronged noise source. "What the _fuck_!", he yelled as he checked the drawers and under the bed to no avail. The cacophony was as truly ear-splitting as it was disorienting. "Fuck you, Wilson!", he shouted at the ceiling. The man stumbled to his nightstand and picked up the phone, intending to call his shit-eating friend and tell him that he was a shit-eater.

But there was a text waiting. _I can end this torture. Open the door_.

Phone still in hand, House stampeded out of his bedroom, down the hallway, and to the front door, working himself up into a righteous fury. Wilson had pulled the most despicable prank and now he would meet his (Jewish) maker. A man's bedroom was his sanctuary. Sacred ground. But the oncologist cared not for holiness, and he would be destroyed. House threw open the door, words of indignant outrage already on his lips. But there was no Wilson waiting outside. Instead, Cameron, completely wrapped up in woolly hat, gloves, and overcoat, stood there beaming back at him. "Hi, House!", she greeted cheerily, before trailing her eyes over his dishevelled hair, angry expression, bare torso, and boxer shorts. "How's it going? Wow, that's a loud noise – what are you doing in there? Your neighbours aren't gonna like this".

"I'm- are you...it's-", he spluttered.

"Maybe you ought to gather your thoughts before attempting to verbalise", she interrupted calmly.

House's mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he mustered a response. "Did _you_ orchestrate... _this_?".

"Not quite sure what you mean there, buster. D'you mind if I come in?". Without waiting for a reply, the brunette brushed past him and into the apartment. "Huh", she mused from the threshold to his bedroom, "I thought it wasn't that bad, but now that I'm in here, it really is a pretty loud noise".

The nephrologist slammed the door and marched up to the other. "It's not 'pretty loud'; it's a fucking cacophony. These are not normal alarms. Turn them off!".

But Cameron gestured towards her ear. "What?", she mouthed.

"TURN THEM OFF!", he yelled, deciding that 'cacophony' was too hard a word to lipread.

"I can't hear you! I'll just go turn them off and we can talk!", she screamed back, jogging into his bedroom. After a few moments' continued blaring, silence settled.

House, who had retreated, massaged his ears and waited for the mischief-maker's return. As soon as she stepped back into the living area, he launched into his tirade. "What the fuck, Cameron. I was trying to fucking sleep. I don't mind pranks, but that was totally shitty, especially since I explicitly _told_ you I value my rest a while back. It's like four in the morning, for God's sake".

The immunologist nodded. "Closer to five, actually. You realise we leave for the airport soon, right?".

"Of course I realise. I have my own damn alarm. I don't need you messing me around". House was still really angry.

Cameron tilted her head. "Well, are you packed?".

"All I need to do is stick a few clothes in a carry-on and I'm good to go, OK? Ten minutes max. Jesus".

"I figured you'd be upset, which is why I brought you this...", she handed over a Starbucks, "...this", now she handed over a pair of freshly-buttered croissants in a paper bag, "...and this...", she finished, pulling him into a deep kiss. Despite himself, House's hands edged under her woollen sweater, feeling the warm skin beneath. It quickly became apparent that she was bra-less. "Better?", she whispered into his mouth.

"Getting there", he admitted grudgingly. "But it's going to take a little more than that for me to forgive you. My dream was completely ruined".

"Good one, was it?".

"Monica Bellucci".

"Interesting. She's not blonde, though".

House shrugged and took a sip of coffee. "Hair colour isn't everything". The drink softened his anger somewhat, and he jettisoned surliness to ask a question: "who's your celebrity crush, then?".

"If I tell, will it aid the forgiveness process?", she asked.

"Maybe".

"Hmm. Well, I'm a sucker for British guys in general, and I have several favourites. But if pressed, I'd have to say...Sean Bean. I saw him recently on TV. Aged like fine wine".

"Huh, he's pretty old".

"Confession time: I like older men", she murmured, leaning into his body.

"Am I gonna have to be on the lookout in London, hey? There'll be a few British _chaps_ who'll want a piece of you". It was hard to stay mad when the smell of croissants wafted through his apartment.

"Maybe so, but it doesn't matter, because I'm already accounted for. Now go and get ready. We leave in...", she glanced at her watch, "...twenty-five minutes. Foreman and Chase are meeting us at the airport".

"I bet they didn't have an annoying woman sabotaging their sleep at some god-forsaken time in the morning", grumbled the diagnostician, moving off to the bathroom.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that", she called after him.

"No need", came the reply.

"Get a move on, else I'll plant even more comically loud alarm clocks around your apartment!".

* * *

The four diagnosticians boarded the plane and were directed to their seats by the flight attendants. House had cheered up slightly but still largely kept to monosyllabism. "Not a morning person, boss?", asked Foreman as they waited for an overweight man to store his luggage in the overhead compartments.

"Mornings, people, planes. You name it, I probably don't like it", he replied shortly, letting out a large sigh as the aisle was finally cleared.

"No way", chimed Chase. "I love planes".

"Of course you do. They're the only means of leaving Australia".

"Looks like we're...", muttered Cameron as she checked the numbers on the tickets with those on the seats, "...here. And you guys should be just a couple further down". Chase and Foreman nodded and moved off. "Aisle or window?", she spoke to House.

"Window", he murmured, before deciding it was too antagonistic and adding a quick 'thanks'. Cameron merely smiled. House's grumpiness had ceased to bother her long ago. She had no way of knowing so, but this even-keeled temperament was one of the first things Wilson had pinpointed when he, House, and Cuddy had spoken about her a few months back. "Stop smiling. It's seven in the morning and freezing cold", he complained.

"I'm not as bitter and twisted as you, remember. I like mornings just fine. Would you help me stow my bag?".

The diagnostician glanced up from the earphones he was untangling. Cameron had her holdall precariously balanced above her head, unable to find room alongside someone's else's suitcase which had shifted out of place. The position caused her sweater to ride up, revealing an expanse of smooth, pale skin. Not for the first time in the last few days, his brain travelled back to the hallucination and how the robotic arms had carefully peeled away her clothing, unveiling the perfection beneath. Maybe it would soon be time to confess. Maybe it was not actually such a big deal. "How tall did you say you were again?", he asked, aware that Cameron was looking at him. "They design those things for accessibility".

"It's just pretty fiddly is all".

House let out an exaggerated sigh but nevertheless moved to provide assistance. "Y'know", he said conspiratorially, "a man helping a woman with her bag? It's practically Victorian. Don't tell the feminists".

The brunette patted his stomach affectionately. "I love that you equate common courtesy with feminism. Anyway, Emmeline Pankhurst would disagree with your assessment of the Victorians".

"Someone's been doing their homework. What, are you a nerd or something?". Both doctors settled into their seats.

"You're not the only one who likes history, House. I checked, though, and a lot of the Pankhurst stuff is in Manchester, unfortunately, up north".

"Hmm. I bet we could get a train there at some point, if you fancied. Cuddy would no doubt protest, but who cares? I'll keep mum if you will".

Cameron regarded his profile keenly. "You'd want to do that with me?".

"Well, 'want' is a strong word, isn't it? As you know, I care little for women's rights. Or men's rights, for that matter. But I've been told relationships are about compromise, so...".

"Oh, yeah? Who told you that?", she grinned.

"It was either Michelle Obama or Carletta from _Real Hospitals of Los Angeles"_ , he replied, stroking his chin thoughtfully _._

"My money's on the latter". Cameron watched as House retrieved his laptop from under the seat and plugged in his earphones. "Bit early for porn, or...?", she mused as he opened a couple of racy folders from the landing screen.

House recoiled. "Don't say that ever again – it's never too early. Nah, but even I can't justify watching it on a plane with you sitting beside me. I'm just trying to remember where I saved my films...not used this machine in a while". While he fiddled away, the immunologist pulled out a book, resting it in her lap while she scanned the cabin contentedly. A large proportion of the passengers looked to be professionals, dressed in suits and skirts, many of them already tapping on iPads and laptops or double-checking emails on phones before the imposition of radio silence for take-off. Still, further down she spotted a couple of children, a boy and a girl, waiting patiently while their father fetched snacks from a bag. Both received a juicebox, the girl helping her brother pierce the hole with his straw; a simple kindness which warmed her heart.

House nudged her arm and he looked at her expectantly. "Sorry, did you say something?", she asked.

"I'm gonna watch _The Matrix_. The flight is six hours, so time enough for the whole trilogy. Can share an earpiece if you want".

"Not for now. Never liked the first one...", suddenly she trailed off, resuming a moment or two later as she remembered the cast from that movie series, "...Monica Bellucci. _Nice_ ".

The nephrologist grinned, his grumpiness banished. "We should start a list, y'know, like a celebrity free pass, just in case we end up in the Ritz rubbing shoulders with the great and the good".

Cameron considered this. "Fine. Top three?".

"Let's take turns. Descending order".

"Rob Gronkowski", she said.

"Well, well. She picks a football star. Interesting _._ Jawline?".

"Nah. Bet he has _sparkling_ conversation".

House scoffed but confided his choice. "Natalie Portman. Brains and looks".

"Good one. Hugh Jackman".

"Hmm. Bellucci".

"My final choice...Tom Hiddleston. He's my dash of culture, since we can't spend _all_ day in bed".

"I've got to give it to you, Camster; pretty impressive trio there".

"I have fabulous taste in men", she murmured, pecking his cheek. "Your number one?".

"Scarlett Johansson".

"Fair. She's a babe".

The conversation was interrupted by the inevitable safety announcements and demonstrations. Before long, the plane began taxiing to the runway. Wordlessly House took Cameron's hand in his own. The latter smiled. Handholding was such an un-House thing. And yet, here they were. "When did you plant the alarm clocks?", he asked suddenly.

"Couple of days back. We were watching TV. I excused myself to the bathroom. Kinda amazed you didn't notice how long I was gone".

"Of course I noticed. Assumed you were doing female stuff like braiding your hair or making daisy chains".

"Oh, I did that as well. I work fast".

"It was a good effort, but I'll get you back". With that, the plane's engines roared into life, shuddering it forwards and filling the cabin with deafening noise. As the plane hurtled down the runway and the wheels left the tarmac, Cameron could see in her peripheral vision House gazing intently out of the window. Only after the city lights had started to shrink into the inky blackness of the early morning sky did he return to his film and release her hand.


End file.
